m^n ucDios^ mwiM^K^x. 
 
LIFE OF 
 
 REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 LATE MINISTER OF THE RECONCILIATION, AND SE- 
 NIOR PASTOR OF THE UNIVERSALISTS, CON- 
 GREGATED IN BOSTON 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 THE R1EC0RDS CONTAIN ANECDOTES OF THE WRITERS' INFANCY, 
 AND ARE EXTENDED TO SOME YEARS AFTER THE COMMENCE- 
 MENT OF HIS PUBLIC LABORS IN AMERICA. 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED 
 
 A BRIEF CONTINUATION TO THE CLOSING SCENE. 
 
 To Christian Friends this Volume makes appeal j 
 Friends are indulgent — Christian Friends can feel. 
 
 STEREOTYPE EDITION, WITH NOTES AND REMARKS, 
 
 BY REV. L. S. EYERETT. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 MARSH, CAPEN and LYON. 
 
 1833. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1831, by Marsh, 
 Ca?en &. Lyon, and in the Clerk's office of the District Court of Mas- 
 sachusetts. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The pages which compose the volume now pre- 
 sented to the pubHc, 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 divine 
 and soul-soothing tenets, of which it was his distin- 
 guished lot to be ORDAINED the promulgator. 
 
 For those who, like this individual, have dwelt 
 with rapture upon the blessed assurance of the bound- 
 less and enduring love of a redeeming God, as pow- 
 erfully exhibited by those hps 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 inspired Preacher, for the sake of 
 the glorious inspiration; 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 2, 1816. 
 
 M1914.49. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO THE FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 In presenting this edition of the Ufe of Eev. John 
 Murray to the pubhc, the pubhshers are satisfied that 
 they are contributing to the edification and pleasure 
 of many who have not hitherto been able to obtain 
 the work, owing to the rapid increa^o of the denomi- 
 nation of Universahsts in this country, the former edi- 
 tions were found wholly unequal to the demand. Ma- 
 ny, in different parts of the country, have sought to 
 obtain copies of the work, executed in a style which 
 should entitle it to a place in their libraries, but an 
 edition of the kind wanted, was not to be found. 
 
 To supply this demand, and by so doing, contrib- 
 ute to the gratification of those who hold the name 
 and memory of the author in grateful remembrance, 
 it was thought advisable to re-publish the work with 
 such notes and other improvements as might be 
 thought necessary. No pains have been spared to 
 render this edition deserving of general approbation. 
 
 It is well known that the generality of Universal- 
 ists do not now hold to all the peculiarities of senti- 
 ment which distinguished the revered author of these 
 pages. But in one respect all are united — all who 
 bear the name, believe in the ultimate reconciliation 
 and happiness of the world of mankind. The disa- 
 greement, (if an honest difference of opinion may be 
 so called,) is in regard to the means, by which, and 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 the time when, that result shall be brought about. 
 And more — all are agreed so far as to be willing to 
 receive each other as brethren, mutually favored with 
 the inahenable right of entertaining opinions according 
 to the measure of grace bestowed. In this, the mem- 
 bers of the order have not departed from that high 
 toned liberahty which distinguished the venerated 
 Murray. 
 
 This new, and we hope improved edition, will go 
 forth into the world accompanied with an ardent 
 prayer for its success in melting the hearts into deep 
 contrition, by the spirit which it breathes — a spirit 
 of gratitude and kindness. And in proportion to 
 the salutary effect it may have, will be the pleasure 
 re«;ulting from the pains which has been taken to ren- 
 der it deserving of patronage. 
 
 Editor. 
 
 Aug, ly 1831. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 An account of the Author's birth and parentage; with succeeding events 
 
 until the decease of his father 9 
 
 ;<^HAPTER II. 
 Record continued until the author's departure from Ireland - 47 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Arrival in England, and further progress of the inexperienced traveller 
 
 69 
 
 CHAPTER iV. 
 
 The Author becomes a happy husband, a happy father. He embr5»^e8 
 the * truth, as it is in Jesus/ and from this, and other combining cau- 
 ses^ he is involved in great difficulties. Death deprives him of his 
 wedded friend, and his infant son, and he is overtaken by a series of 
 
 calamities 98 
 
 CHAPTER V, 
 
 The bereaved man quitting his native shores, embarks for America, in- 
 dulging the fond hope of sequestering himself in the solitude for which 
 he sigbed. But, contrary to his expectations, a series of circumstan- 
 ces unite to produce him a Promulgator of the gospel of God, our 
 Saviour 128 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Record continued from the September of 1770, to the winter 
 
 ofl774 -.-.---- 146 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Sununary Record of Events from January, 1775, to October, 1809 210 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Record continued from October, 1809, to September, 1816, including 
 the closing scene ---.-..-. 246 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Conclusion -- - - - - - - - 261 
 
 Appendix -»---..•-. 26T 
 
LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 REV. JOHN MURRAY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Containing cm Jlccount of the Author^ s Birth and Parent'- 
 age, until the Decease of his Father. 
 
 How sweetly roU'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. 
 
 Your earnest solicitations, my inestimable, my best 
 friend, have, with me, the force of commands, and conse- 
 quently I am irresistibly compelled to retrace for your 
 gratification, as many of the incidents of early life, as live 
 in my memory. Assured of your indulgence, I unhesita- 
 tingly commit to your candor, and to your discretion, the 
 following sheets. 
 
 I am induced to regret, that my anecdotes of this charm- 
 ing 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 rebel- 
 
,iO; : /r ','\ ; ' 'i,ill?<p 0T?\ l^'fV.. JGHN MfRRAT. . 
 
 lion terminated in the destruction of many of the Scotch 
 nobility of my name, and this same rebellion was long the 
 subject of political controversy, which generally termina- 
 ted 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 manu- 
 facture, and it is environed by a plantation of hops. Alton 
 is seated on the River Wey, 18 miles east-north-east of 
 South-Hampton, and 48 miles west-south-west of London. 
 
 Being the first born of my parents, it is not wonderful 
 that my appearance gave much joy, nor that the little 
 complaints, incident to infancy, 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 mo- 
 ther a Presbyterian, yet Religion never disturbed the har- 
 mony 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 dis- 
 position became proverbial. I found the use of my feet 
 before I had completed my first year, but the gift of utter 
 ance was still postponed. I was hardly two years old, 
 when I had a sister born; 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 baptized, 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. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 11 
 
 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 dis- 
 tinctly articulate any other. Indulged, as I said, by boun- 
 teous nature, with much serenity of mind, every one was 
 happy with me. I was fond of being abroad, and a ser- 
 vant 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 emancipation. 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 into some form, and planting in 
 regular order, little sprigs broken from the gooseberry, or 
 currant bushes. My pleasures of this nature were how- 
 ever, soon interrupted by going to school : this was my 
 first afiliction; 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 not appear to me that I was what the world calls 
 naturally vicious. I was neither querulous, nor quarrel- 
 some; I cannot trace in my mind a vestige of envy. I re- 
 joiced in every advantage possessed by my little comrades, 
 and my father was accustomed to exclaim, ' Never, I be- 
 lieve, was such a boy; he absolutely delights as much in 
 the new garments worn by the children of our neighbors, 
 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 oflfice; It is true I 
 encountered diflBculties, from the various dispositions of 
 those with whom I associated, but, in my infii.nt bosom, 
 rancor 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 
 
12 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 correctly, but I rarely paused at a word; however difficult, 
 still I read on. My father, I remember, used sometimes 
 to laugh out — 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; 
 how it is he utters such sounds, and passes on with such 
 rapidity, I cannot 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 recom- 
 mence, and go over the whole again. This conduct 
 originated, even at this early age, more fear than affection 
 for my father. I was studious to avoid his presence, and 
 I richly enjoyed his absence. To my brothers and sisters, 
 who were multiplied with uncommon rapidity, I was 
 warmly attached, and as our mother contributed all in her 
 power to our gratification, our pleasures were not surpas- 
 sed by those of any little group, which came under our 
 observation. 
 
 My parents were the religious children of religious pa- 
 rents, and grand parents; they were the more religious on 
 that account; and, as the descendants of ancient noble 
 families value themselves on their pedigree, stimulating 
 their children from considerations of ancestry to act up to 
 the illustrious examples which they exhibit and emblazon, 
 uniformly insisting that they shall avoid mixing with the 
 plebian race; so, as soon as I appeared to pay attention 
 to interesting tales, I was made acquainted with. the char- 
 acter of my grand parents. 
 
 My paternal grandfather, however, possessed only neg- 
 ative religion; that is, his affection for my grandmother 
 obliged him to conform to her, in every thing; and he es- 
 teemed 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 attach- 
 ments, 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 governor of the fortress, in the harbor of Cork. My 
 grandmother soon lost this second husband, and never 
 married again. She was, ia 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 1.3 
 
 beautiful old lady. Traces of aflluence were conspicuous 
 in her dwelling, her furniture, and apparelj she was an 
 immediate descendant of an ancient and honorable 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 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 na- 
 tive 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 riie same persuasion, confirmed her 
 an exile forever. The irritated feelings of her father ad- 
 mitted 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, provided he 
 could obtain her consent, and she were not absolutely dis- 
 gusting. The first who presented happened to be his 
 chambermaid; he made known to her his vow, was ac- 
 cepted with gratitude and they were speedily married 
 Not many years after this event, the old gentleman 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, cheer- 
 fully concurred in a relinquishment of the estate, and 
 united in declaring, that, on terms so calculated to pros- 
 trate their integrity, they would not accept the whole 
 kingdom of France. The clergyman 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 the quiet 
 possession 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- 
 
14 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 stantially relate the transaction, as I advanced in life, my 
 bosom often acknowledged a latent wish, that he had ac- 
 cepted an inheritance to which his natural claim was in- 
 dubitable, upon the terms offered by the ecclesiastics, 
 which were, that my grandmother, and my father, should 
 in so many w^ords, qualify themselves for the possession 
 of their right, while, in their hearts, they continued to 
 judge for themselves. But from a conduct so question- 
 able, the guileless heart of my upright parent spontane- 
 ously revolted; and, for myself, while revolving years 
 gave me to exult in his decision, the dete(ition of so rep- 
 rehensible a principle, in my own bosom, and at so early 
 a period, originated much contrition. Yet, notwithstand- 
 ing 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 daughters augmented his felicities; he re- 
 ceived from nature a strong mind, his parents bestowed 
 upon him a good education, and he was universally 
 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 reprehensible pursuits 
 were nothing diminished; the silent suffering of his wed- 
 ded companion were strongly expressed in her wan coun- 
 tenance, and broken health. The circumstances of his 
 conversion from dissipation to a life of severe piety were 
 rather remarkable, and were considered 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 negatively 
 pious, and that if they did not lead, they cheerfully fol- 
 lowed, in cultivating a pious disposition in the minds of 
 their children; and, by consequence. Religion became 
 the legitimate inheritance of my immediate parents. 
 The conversion of my paternal grandmother, from the 
 tenets in which she was educated, increased her zeal, 
 while the inheritance, sacrificed from conscientious prin- 
 ciples, gave her to consider herself 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 trea- 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 15 
 
 sure, they were sedulously, anxious to inculcate a per- 
 suasion of the necessity of securing another. 
 
 It is wonderful, that while it was the great business, 
 both of my father and mother, to render their children 
 feelingly solicitious to secure an interest in the Redeemer, 
 that they might be thus entitled to a blessed and happy 
 futurity, they were both of them very rigid Calvinists. 
 
 The doctrines, taught by that gloomy Reformer, they 
 undeviatingly taught to their family : and hence my soul 
 frequently experienced the extreme of agony. Naturally 
 vivacious, to implant religion among my juvenile pleasures 
 required the most vigorous and uniform effort. Religion 
 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 discov- 
 ery 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 
 unbending discipline of my father, and the terrifying ap- 
 prehensions of what I had to expect from the God wha 
 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 expectationsof my father were often 
 blasted; my attachment to my playmates, and their child- 
 ish gambols revived, and when engaged in appropriate 
 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 proposed. My appetite for pleasure 
 increased, and I occasionally prefered the truant frolic, 
 to the stated seasons of study, yea, though I was certain 
 severe castigation wt>uld be the consequence. Pious sup- 
 plications were the accompaniments of the chastisements 
 
16 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 which were inflicted, so that I often passed from the ter- 
 ror of the rod, to the terrifying 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 heai'd my father declare, that for any individual, 
 not the elect of God, or to say of 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 eternal 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 making provision for alternate torture, 
 threw a cloud over every innocent enjoyment. 
 
 About the time that I attained my eleventh year, my 
 father removed 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 quited 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 Bris- 
 tol river the tide is extremely rapid; I stepped into a boat 
 on the slip, and letting it loose, the force of the current 
 almost instantly carried it oflfinto the channel, and had it 
 been ebh instead oi 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 experienced was 
 from the effects of my father^s indignation. The poor 
 gentleman, with a number of compassionate individuals, 
 were engaged, until almost twelve o'clock, in searching 
 the town, and the harbor, and had returned home relin- 
 quishing every hope of my restoration. In the midst off 
 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, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 17 
 
 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 ad- 
 minister 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 
 he has suffered enough already.' My father was softened^ 
 perhaps he was not displeased to find a pretence for mild- 
 ness: he gave m.e no correction for this offence^ he even 
 treated me with unusual kindness. We were detained 
 in Pill three weeks, wishing for a favorable wind, three 
 weeks more at Minehead, and three weeks at Milford Ha- 
 ven. Thus we were nine weeks in performing a passage, 
 which is commonly made iri forty-eight hours, and instead 
 of my father's reaching Cork before the residue of his 
 family, they were there almost at the moment of our ar- 
 rival. In Cork we were at home. There dwelt the re- 
 spected 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 religion could hardly be sur- 
 passed; and it appeared to him that this innate, and holy 
 operation, rejected by every other sect, had found refuge 
 in the bosoms of these exemplary people. But, though 
 my father espoused the cause, he did not immediately be- 
 come a Methodist: the Methodists were not Calvinists.. 
 Yet, if possible, he doubled his diligence; 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 enamored;, 
 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 tunes, — and all this 
 was beyond expression charming. At this period the 
 health of my father began to decline. Physicians con- 
 curred in opinion, that his complaints indicated a pulmo- 
 nary affection. Again his efforts were renewed and in- 
 vigorated, and, poor gentleman, his labors were abun- 
 dantly multiplied. 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 children neces- 
 sarily mingled more or less with the children in the neigh- 
 
18 LIFE or REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 borhood, they caught words and habits Avhich he disliked, 
 and application was made to the rod,^ as a sovereign 
 panacea. 
 
 In the coui'se of my twelfth year, my father was over- 
 taken by a very heavy calamity; his house,^ his houses, 
 and indeed almost every thing he possessed,, were laid m 
 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. It was happy for 
 us that my respectable grandmother still lived, whose ex- 
 tricating hand was an ever ready resource. 
 
 It was my father's constant practice, so long as his 
 health would permit, 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 fami- 
 ly were summoned, and I,, as the eldest son, was ordered 
 into my closet, for the purpose of private devotion. My 
 father, however, did not go with me, and I did not always 
 pray; I was not always in a praying frame; but the de- 
 ceit, which I was thus reduced to the necessity of prac- 
 tising, was an additional torture to my laboring mind. 
 After the family were collected, it was my part to read a 
 chapter in the bible; then followed along and fervent prayer 
 by my father; breakfast succeeded, when the children 
 being sent to school, the business of the day commenced. 
 In the course of the day, my father, as I believe, never 
 omitted his private devotions, and, in the evening, the 
 whole family were again collected, the children examin- 
 ed, our faults recorded, and I, as an example to the rest, 
 especially chastised. My father rarely passed by an of- 
 fence, without marking it hy such punishment as his . 
 sense of duty awarded; and when my tearful mother in- 
 terceded 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 
 eai*ly 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 domes- 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 19 
 
 ties, had their allotted chapters. Family prayer succeed- 
 ed : after which, Baxter's Saint's Everlasting Rest wag 
 assigned to me; my mother all the time in terror lest the 
 children should be an interruption. At last the bell sum- 
 moned us to church, whither in solemn order we proceed- 
 ed: I close to my father, who admonished me to look 
 straight forward, and not let my eyes wander after vani- 
 ty. At church, I was fixed at his elbow, compelled to 
 kneel when he kneeled, to stand when he stood, to find 
 the Psalm, Epistle, Gospel, and collects for the day; and 
 any instance of inattention was vigilently marked, and 
 unrelentingly punished. When I returned from church, 
 I was ordered to my closet; and when I came forth, the 
 chapter from which the preacher had taken his text, was 
 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 gave the 
 signal for afternoon service, from which we returned to 
 private devotion, to reading, to catechising, to examina- 
 tion, and long family prayer, which closed the most labo- 
 rious 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 descrip- 
 tion, 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 alter- 
 nately 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 tho Lord, — 
 kissing the book for the purpose of adding to its solemni- 
 ty, — that I would no more visit the pleasure grounds, nor 
 "'gain associate with those boys, who had been my com- 
 panions. Almost immediately after this transaction I at- 
 tended 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 bo far as to assure his hearers, that to say, 
 
so LIFE 07 REV. JOHIT MVBKJkT, 
 
 *upon my word,* was an oath, a very horrid oath, since it 
 was tantamount to swearing by Jesus Christ, inasmuch 
 as he was the word, who was made flesh far 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 secret afflictions, and my mother, as far 
 as the tenderness of her nature would permit, was in 
 strict unison with her venerated husband. The depres- 
 sion of my spirits upon this occasion was great,, and en- 
 during; but for revolving months I continued what they 
 called a good boy, I was attentive to my book, carefully 
 following the directions that were given me, and on my 
 return from school, instead of squandering the hours of 
 intermission with idle associates, I immediately retired 
 to the 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 existence, 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 large garden adjoining to my father's and she 
 cultivated an amazing variety of plants. As I was her 
 favorite assistant, she gradually obtained my father's per- 
 mission, 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 halcyon 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 delightful. 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 neighborhood of his mother, and her 
 garden no more bloomed for me. 
 
 We were speedily established in the vicinity of a noble- 
 man'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 hear- 
 ing 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 op- 
 
LIFE OF RET. JOHN MtTRRAY. SI 
 
 portunity offers, he shall become a member of the Uni- 
 versity : 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 spirit- 
 ual 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 nobleman's sons were qualified for Trinity 
 College, Dublin, and in a few years one of those ennobled 
 students, selected my fortunate schoolmate as a compan- 
 ion; he passed through Trinity College, and received its 
 honors, from which period I never again beheld him, un- 
 til 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 abridged every enjoyment of this 
 description. Yet I did form one dear connection, with 
 whom I held sweet converse. But of the society of this 
 dear youth I was soon deprived. Recalled by his family, 
 he was to leave town upon a Sunday morning, and in- 
 stead of going to church, I took my way to his lodgings, 
 for the purpose of bidding him a last farewell. 1 he ill 
 health of my father prevented him from attending church 
 on that day, but tidings of my delinquency were conveyed 
 to him by a gentleman of his acquaintance, and my pun- 
 ishment, 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 determined to take the day to myself; I 
 suffered much through the day from hunger, and I antici- 
 pated my reception at home. In the evening, I stopped 
 at a little hut, where the homely supper smoked up- 
 on the frugal board; the cottagers had the goodness 
 to press me to partake with them; my heart blessed 
 them; I should, like Esau, I. 
 had it been mine to bestow, 
 but, blessings on the hospitable inhabitants of this island, 
 they make no demands either upon friend, or stranger; 
 every individual is welcome to whatever sustenance either 
 their houses or their huts afford. I sat down, and I ate 
 the sweetest meal I ever ate in my life, the pleasure of 
 which 1 have never yet forgotten, although the paternal 
 chastisement, which followed, was uncommonly severe. 
 
 The time now approached when it was judged neces-* 
 
SS LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY.. 
 
 sary I should engage in some business, by which I 
 might secure the neccessaries of life. The conscience 
 of my father had deprived me of an estate, and of a col- 
 legiate education, and it was incumbent upon him to 
 make some provision for me. But what was to be doner 
 If he sent me abroad, I should most unq[ue8tionably con- 
 tract bad habits. Well then, he would bring me up him- 
 self; but this was very difficult. He had for some time 
 thrown up business, and new expenses must be incur- 
 red. 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, J had 
 little leisure. It was at this period I began once more to 
 experience 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 Methodists had followed us to our new 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 hu- 
 mility, and his disbelief of Arminianism were insupera- 
 ble 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 indi- 
 vidual in the society; perseveringly urging him to be- 
 come the leader of a class, and to meet the society in the 
 absence of their preachers : to all which my father con- 
 sented. I think I bave before observed, that I was de- 
 Voted to the Methodists, and for the very reason that render- 
 ed my father apprehensive of them, — they were very so-y 
 cial. The Methodists in this, as in every other place, 
 where they sojourned, by degrees established a perma- 
 nent residence. They first preached in the streets, 
 practised much self-denial, and mortification, inveighed 
 against the standing religion 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 religious; and it is i» 
 religion as in every thing else, where once it is followed 
 by a multitude, multitudes will follow. The very child- 
 ren became religious. A meeting-house was speedily ob- 
 tained, a society was formed, and classes of every de- 
 scription regularly arranged. There was one class of 
 
UFE OC REV. JOHN MURRiLY. 1^ 
 
 boys^ it consisted of forty, and Mr. John Wesley appoint- 
 ed 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 be- 
 gan by singing a hymn. I was once pronounced a good 
 singer, and although I never had patience to learn mu- 
 sic by note, I readily caught every tune I heard, and my 
 notes were seldom false, I repeat, that I was delighted 
 with the music introduced by the Methodists. I collect- 
 ed their most enchanting tunes, and singing them fre- 
 quently in my class, I obtained much applause. Prayer 
 succeeded the hymn; I was accustomed to extemporary 
 prayer; I had usually prayed in sincerity, and my devo- 
 tion upon these occasions was glowing and unfeigned. 
 Examination followed the prayer; I examined every indi- 
 vidual separately, respecting the work of God upon his 
 heart, and both the questions, and responses, evinced 
 great simplicity, and pious sincerity. A word of gene- 
 ral advice next ensued, a second hymn was sung, and the 
 whole concluded with prayer. This was a most delight 
 ful season, both for my parents, and myself. I became 
 the object of general attention: my society was sought 
 by the grey-headed man, and the child. My experience 
 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 favor, destined to become a burning 
 and a shining light; and from these flattering appear- 
 ances my father drew much consolation. I was frequent- 
 ly 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 de- 
 rived incalculable satisfaction, from these very legible 
 marks of election : And though the Methodists insisted, 
 that the doctrine of election, before repentance and faith, 
 was a damnable doctrine; yet they admitted, that, after 
 the manifestation of extraordinary evidences, the indi- 
 vidual, so favored, was unquestionably elected. Thus, 
 by the concurrent testimonies of Calvinists and Armin- 
 ians, I was taught to consider myself as distinguished, 
 and chosen of God; as certainly born again. Yet, as it 
 was next to impossible to ascertain the moment of my 
 new birth, I became seriously unhappy, but from thisun- 
 happiness I was rescued, by reading accounts of holy 
 
94 MPE OF REV» JOHN MURRAT. 
 
 and good men in similar circumstances; I now therefore 
 lived a heaven upon earth, beloved, caressed, and ad- 
 mired. 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 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 sorrows, and by this friendly intercourse 
 the first was increased, and the second diminished. In 
 all our little meetyigs we were continually complaining 
 to, and soothing each other, and these employments were 
 truly delightfbl. The mind cannot be intently occupied 
 on contrary matters at the same time, and my mind being 
 filled with devotion, my waking and my sleeping mo- 
 ments were invariably engaged in religious pursuits; it 
 was in truth my meat, and my drink, to do what I be- 
 lieved the will of my heavenly Father. At this period, 
 I should have been wrecked upon the sand-built founda- 
 tion of self-righteousness, as many of my young friends 
 were, had it not been for the unbroken vigilance of an ex- 
 perienced and tender father. He saw the danger of too 
 great elation, and he labored to keep me humble in my 
 own estimation, ' You now, my dear,' said he, ' think 
 you know every thing; but when you really attain supe- 
 rior information, you will be convinced you know noth- 
 ing.' 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, inter- 
 rupted 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 con- 
 scious of no wishes, but those which I considered the le- 
 gitimate offspring of the religion I professed. I wonder- 
 ed what had become of my evil propensities; they were 
 however gone, and I believed, they would no more re- 
 turn : my days, my weeks rolled on, uniformly devoted to 
 pursuits, which created for me unutterable self-compla- 
 cency. 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 undis- 
 turbed repose, with spirits innocently gay, I arose, wash- 
 ed my face and hands, repeating a short supplication, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 25 
 
 which my father never, on those occasions, omitted: 
 *0, Almighty God, vrho hath ordained this watery ele- 
 ment 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 into everlasting life.' I then retired to my 
 closet, offering the orisons of my gladened heart, and 
 habited for church. I sat down to my book, until my 
 father made his appearance, when the family being sum- 
 moned, and the morniAg pra3^er ended, we breakfastedj 
 but it was a li^ht repast; and soon despatched. At eight 
 o'clock, I attended the Methodist meeting: at half 
 past nine, I returned home, and devoted the time to read- 
 ing, until after ten, when the bell summoned me to chjurch, 
 where the Methodists at that time attended; at church I 
 was remarked for my devotion. From the church I re- 
 turned to my closet, after which 1 read the Bible, respond- 
 ing to the interrogations of my father, relative to the 
 sermon, by repeating it nearly verbatim. Dinner over I 
 again retired to my closet; from which, by my father's 
 desire, I made my appearance, to read for him some de- 
 votional book, until the bell again commanded my attend- 
 ance upon public worship; but, to my great consolation, 
 I had not, when I returned home,as on Sunday sketched in 
 a former page, to spend the residue of the day in sadden- 
 ing glooms : at five o'clock, the Methodist meeting again 
 opened, to which the multitude flocked; there I saw, and 
 there, with affectionate admirartion, I was seen; there, 
 when the terrors of law were exhibited, I was delighted 
 by the assurance of eternal security therefrom; and there, 
 when the children of the Redeemer were addressed in 
 the soothing and plausive strains of consolation, my heart 
 throbbed with pleasure, and tears of transport copiously 
 evinced the rapture of my soul. Society meeting suc- 
 ceeded the close of public service; three classes of the 
 people were denominated Methodists : 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 meetings 
 and no individual, who was not furnished with a ticket, 
 could gain admittance. This ticket was a badge of dis- 
 tinction; it gave the possessor entrance, all others were 
 shut out, and the door was locked. No words can de- 
 scribe my sensations, when I obtained a seat inside the 
 closed door; when I listened, while the preacher in a 
 low voice addressed the children of God. The house 
 
26 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 was not unfrequently filled with the dissonant sounds of 
 terror, and joy issued from the discordant voices of those, 
 who were in the valley, or on the mount. From this so- 
 ciety, I returned home, to unite in family devotion, re- 
 peat the fundamental points of my religion, retire to my 
 frivate devotions, and then to bed. Monday morning, 
 arose at five o'clock, and after the same preparation as 
 on Sunday, attended meeting, returned to breakfast, oc- 
 cupied myself with the business of the day, until dinner; 
 and after dinner, an interval passed in private devotion, 
 to secular affairs again, until evening; then once more to 
 the Methodist meeting, returned, attended family and 
 private devotions, and to my chamber: often not to rest, 
 but to my book, till midnight. Thu& 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 fervor 
 of spirit, excited on those occasions, cannot, in the nature 
 of things be very durable. There were individuals in 
 my class who proved uittoward, 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 my ear, and not unfrequently slanderous 
 reports — reports one against another! This tortured 
 me; I consulted the preachers, disputes ran high, the in- 
 terposition of parents became indispensable, and the 
 class was broken ! ! This was 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. 
 
 1 his was a season replete with events, which possessed 
 for me no common interest. Constantly in society, I for- 
 med many attachments, and I began to fear that the love 
 of social enjoyments would, like Aaron's rod, sAvallow 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 began to sicken at the constant repetition, of devo- 
 tional books. My father read history, and some few 
 novels, but he took special care to secure 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 ovw my father's shoulder and 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 27 
 
 finding Tom Jones, or the history of a Foundling, in his 
 hand, the elForts at conceahnent, which he evidently made, 
 augmented my anxiety to read, I remember once to have 
 found Clarissa Harlovve upon his table. Hervy's Medita- 
 tions, and Young's Night Thoughts, were not interdicted 
 books and their plaintive sadness obtained an easy admis- 
 sion into the inmost recesses of my soul. 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 passion for novelty, and. he 
 deemed it prudent to check, me in the commencement of 
 my career. ..._ 
 
 Although my devotional ecstacies were diminished, yet^ 
 I was steadily attentive to my religious exercises, and I ) 
 believed myself daily increasing in goods. It is true my (^ 
 life was as variable as^ the weather; sometimes on the ] 
 mount, and sometimes in the valley, sometimes alive t 
 to all the fervor of devotion, and sometimes, alas! very | 
 lifeless: Now rejoicing in hope, and anon, depressed, hjj 
 fear. ' 
 
 The preachers, visiting the adjacent villages, often re- 
 quested 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, however, young men, they collected young com- 
 pany, and they were excellent singers; this was a most 
 pleasing circumstance.. My affections naturally glowing, 
 I soon formed strong attachments and, the craft of Mr.. 
 Wesley changing his candidates with every new quarter,, 
 the farewell sermons generally dissolved the whole con- 
 gregation in tears,, and my bosom was often lacerated 
 with many and deep wounds. 
 
 An order from the Bishop now 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 consider* 
 ed themselves Episcopalians, yet they were detested 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 candidates for confirmation : though 
 yorung, I was pretty generally known, and it soon became 
 evident, that I had incurred the displeasure of my minis- 
 ter. No question was proposed to me, but his oblique 
 reflections were abundant: I determined, however, to 
 
28 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 address him; and one day v.dien he was cautioning those, 
 who were honored by his attention, against those expecta- 
 tions about which the wild enthusiasts of the day were 
 fanatically raving, such as the extraordinary operations of 
 the spirits, &c. &c., exhorting them to consider them- 
 selves 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 the advantages? In 
 a most ungracious manner, he replied: 'Undoubtedly.' 
 Then, sir, allow me to ask, What can I want more? Of 
 what use is confirmation? ' What do you mean by asking 
 these impertinent questions?' I ask for information: I 
 came hitherto be instructed. 'No, you came here to 
 instruct me; you want to see your patron, John Wesley, 
 in the pulpit. You have no business here.' I conceive, 
 sir, I have business here; I am one of your parish. I 
 was Avarned to attend, for the purpose of receiving 
 instruction; and to whom should I apply but to my minis- 
 ter? He deigned not to answer me, but when we again 
 assembled, I observed: I remember, sir, when we were 
 last here, you toM 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 article 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 under- 
 stand them.' I- should usuppose, sir, that every member of 
 a church had something to do with the articles 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 oixier the clerk to 
 put you out of the church.' You may order me- out your- 
 self, sir; only tell me to go, and I will instantly 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 uttered a severe 
 and pointed sarcasm. I was sufficiently abashed to cover 
 my face with my hat — ^vhen, 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 in- 
 sisted, 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN 3IURRAY. 29 
 
 sacred a veneration for the place I vi^as in, to deport my- 
 self unbecomingly while under its roof; that I had not 
 the smallest inclination to mirth; that the consideration 
 of his denying the operation of the spirit upon the heart 
 had too inuch disturbed and grieved me.. ' Well, I do 
 still say, there is no especial operation of the spirit: I 
 have never experienced any thing of this description^ 
 How then, suflier me to ask, could you say,, when yoa 
 were ordcvined, 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 vi^ere 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 confirming the young people of our 
 parish? I instantly repaired to the church, and to my 
 great surprise, found the informjition correct; my good 
 priest had not intended I should be apprized of the busi- 
 ness. I advanced however to the altar, and presented 
 myself to the bishop.. My priest appeared exceedingly ir- 
 ritated, 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, 
 provided they understand what they are about.', From 
 this reply I concluded the priest had accused me of Meth 
 odism. It happened, that I was the first of the circle 
 presented round the altar, and began as follows : 
 
 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 vanities 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 engagements 
 entered into at my baptism, cannot be fulfilled without 
 the aid, and operation of the spirit of the Lord; and I am 
 taught to consider this ordinance as a means of grace, 
 through which I may obtain the aid of the Holy Spirit, so 
 requisite to my well doing. 
 
so LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Bishop. (With a softened voice) Have you ever been 
 at the communion? 
 
 Murray. Yes, my lord, and although I ventured at 
 first with tear, and trembling, yet deriving there-from real 
 consolation, I have never since absented myself. ' you are 
 right, said the Bishop, and immediately laying his hands 
 upon my head, he prayed for me with the greatest appa- 
 rent fervor. 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 bishop; 'I should have thought you 
 would at least have learned to answer from the youth 
 who spoke before you;' and he gave my pries-t a glance, 
 which called the blush of co;:ifusion into his face. I was 
 extremely gratified, so were my friends in general, and 
 my pious father in particular. Mr.. John Wesley now 
 made us a visit, he paid me the most distinguished attention, 
 and the regards of such a man were, to a young heart, 
 truly flattering; he cherished the idea,. that I should shortly 
 become a useful laborer in the field, which he so sedu- 
 lously cultivated. One thing, however, gave him anxie- 
 ty, — the probability that I had imbibed my father's dam- 
 nable 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 toward 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 abom- 
 inable sentiments into the minds of some of the breth- 
 ren. Mr. Wesley's disciples considered him the apostle 
 of the age: and I -experienced a reverential awe in his 
 presence; yet there wei-e points in his conduct, which ex- 
 cited my wonder, and which, in any other character, I 
 should not have hesitated to pronounce wrong; but 1 
 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 sovl. Sometimes, 
 indeed, when listening to a lively, warm-hearted preach- 
 er, I was made most keenly to feel the poverty of my 
 condition; that, while I was believed rich, and increasing 
 in goods, having need of nothing, I was in truth misera- 
 bly poor, blind and naked. This consideration often 
 rended me sad, in proportion as I appeared to suffer: I 
 became the object of respectful attention. Glooms, and 
 melancholy, were considered as infallible signs of a gra- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY". SI 
 
 cious di^iposition, 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 main- 
 tenance of my standing in the society, my sadness was 
 not uniform, and, preserving no medium, I always be- 
 came gay in full proportion to my previous depression; 
 and, in truth, cheerfulness was becoming 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 con- 
 sternation, that I was daily loosing ground in the estima- 
 tion of my associates. This conviction banished my dan- 
 gerous 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 longed to be as they 
 were. Even my father began to fear that I was rapidly 
 declining, and by his consequent tenderness I was 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 experi- 
 ence, than any other person of my age. The young, 
 when under awakenings, always resorted to me for com- 
 fort and information, while the old hung with delight on 
 my narrations: the prayers of my father obtained due 
 credit; the child of so many prayers could only be as I 
 Avas. I was at this time about sixteen years of age, but 
 commencing life so early, I felt like twenty, and I antici- 
 pated all the enjoyments which awaited me. 
 
 About this period, our society was gratified by a most 
 unexpected acquisition. A gentleman of great fortune, 
 who had been a virulent opposer of the Methodists, be- 
 came 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 be- 
 longed to the Presbyterian meeting, and their numerous 
 kindred, worshipping there, continued inveterate adver- 
 saries. 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 
 
S& LirE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 attached to oar 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 ad-- 
 vanced in years, used to rise at four in the morning, in 
 the depth of winter, and go round among the neighbors, 
 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 Avay, they never omitted calling 
 upon us; my father was not always well enough to ac- 
 company 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 brothers: for a long 
 season this family, and ours, spent at least a part of every 
 day together; they met constantly at church, and had 
 beside many private interviews. Mr. Little, the name 
 of our new friend, belonged 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 women, and the widows; 
 the single men, the married men, and the widowers. My 
 mother was a leader of a band of married women. The 
 youth, I have mentioned of my own age, sought and ob- 
 tained my confidence; I conceived for him the warmest 
 affection, and I had every reason to suppose the attach- 
 ment 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 people, I derived 
 great pleasure; I was much beloved by the principals of 
 the family, and I had great delight in the society of their 
 chil/iren. 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 ac- 
 quainted with Addison, Pope, Parnel, Thomson, and 
 Shakspeare; we read those writings together; never shall 
 I forget the avidity with which 1 seized, and the delight 
 with which I perused those authors; I was beyond ex- 
 pression fascinated by their numbers; but I thought best 
 carefully to conceal this new source of enjoyment from 
 my father. The library, to which I thus obtained free 
 access was very extensive : ■ besides the books already 
 
LIFE OF REV.. JOHJf MURRAY. 3© 
 
 named, it contained much to attract a young mind; novels, 
 essays, and histories, by. a frequent perusal of which, I 
 was both informed and improved. I'hus, in the full en- 
 joyment of sweet serenity, glided on many happy months; 
 my time was divided between the habitation of my father, 
 and his friend.. 1 enjoyed the warm regards of every inr 
 dividual of this- amiable family, the eldest son excepted, 
 nor was he a malignant foe; he contented himself with 
 making a jest of our devotion, which only served to attach 
 us 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 afflicted,, lest I should be regarded 
 either directly, or indirectly, as the source of their inqui- 
 etude. They, however, did not hesitate to impute to their 
 eldest son's aversion from religion every thing unpleasant 
 between their children, and I had credit for my full share of 
 that rectitude and correct conduct, to which their young- 
 est 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 eldest 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 confidant of all her little se- 
 crets, 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 dis- 
 tant relation of Mrs. Little, was introduced as a visitor; 
 she also .was a Methodist, and of great piety. My young 
 friend and myself, were in the parlor when she entered, 
 but soon withdrew, when we 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, before either be- 
 came acquainted with the passion of the other; but I could 
 never conceal any thing long, especially from this my sec- 
 ond 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 sighin^j as if our 
 
34 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY.. 
 
 hearts were breaking, my friend mournfully inquired; 
 * 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 froni 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 as- 
 tonished) when I assure you, that I have conceived for 
 Miss Dupee the strongest and most tender passion ! He 
 started, appeared 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 bl'ame your at- 
 tachment; for,, however unattractive in person, who that 
 hears Miss Dupee converse, who that has any knowledge 
 of her mind J., can avoid loving her, even as you love her; 
 and to prove to you how fully I am qualified to sympathize 
 with you, let me frankly own, that I also love this charm- 
 ing woman.' This unexpected avowal greatly afflicted 
 me: I trembled lest so strong a passion for the same ob- 
 ject, 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, ex- 
 claimed; 'Never, my brother, no never shall any thing 
 separate between thee and me. By first communicating 
 your sentiments, you have acquired a. prior right, which 
 I will not, dar^ 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 unhappiness.' This 
 generosity was; truly affecting. I caught him to my bo- 
 som; I wept, I even sobbed as I held him to my heart, 
 and unable to bear his superiority,. I exclaimed:; No, my 
 noble-hearted friend, never will I accept sach 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 favored mortal, I hope,, 
 and believe, I shall willingly resign her, and content my- 
 self with listening to her heavenly accents. And, truth 
 to say, she possessed a most enchanting voice; a most 
 fascinating manner, admirably calculated to gain hearts, 
 
lifFfi OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. gg 
 
 ©specially 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 impres- 
 sive manner. While, however, we were mutually ac- 
 ceding to this Avise plan for the disposal of Miss Dupee, 
 it never once entered into our heads, that she very possi- 
 bly was not designed for either of us. Perhaps few 
 youthful bosoms have ever endured a greater conflict be- 
 tween love and friendship : We experienced both in no com- 
 mon degree, but friendship in both our hearts became 
 triumphant. The amiable woman continued, 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 be- 
 hold her habitation, poetizing, and sighing, as if my heart 
 would break; I had some reason to believe she had dis- 
 covered, 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, fiJled with 
 the warmest professions of eternal affection, and conjur- 
 ing her, at least to grant me leave to hope, i dared not 
 entrust a domestic with this letter, lest it should be dis- 
 covered by my father, for the dread of meeting a refu- 
 sal from my mistress was not more terrible to my imagi- 
 nation, than that my father should obtain knowledge of my 
 temerity. One night, therefore, returning from the so- 
 ciety, with fear, and trembling, 1 put my letter into her hand, 
 humbly requesting she would honor it with 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 ate, till I was cured, radically 
 cured. It was upon a Wednesday night, I delivered my 
 letter : what did I not suffer from the torture of suspense, 
 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 the most reason to fear — the 
 contempt and indignation of my own father. It never 
 once entered my thoughts, that she would communicate 
 my letter to any one, and least of all that she would ex- 
 pose me to my father; but instead of writing me an 
 answer, such an answer as my fond, foolish heart, some- 
 times ventured to expect, she inclosed my very first love* 
 letter, to the very last person in the world to whom I 
 
36 LIFE er rev. johk iMtJiiRAy. 
 
 should have chosen to confide it ! I was at this time de- 
 bilitated by the want of rest and food, which, for the pre- 
 ceding fortnight, 1 had rarely taken, and upon this Friday 
 evening, as [ entered the presence of my father, an un- 
 usual dread pervaded my spirits. It is too true, I never ap- 
 peared before him, without apprehension; but, upon this 
 occasion I was unusually agitated: but how were my terrors 
 augmented, when my father, with a countenance of the 
 most solemn indignation, ordered me toapproach. The sea- 
 son 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. ' Gome 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, pene- 
 trating eyes upon me, with a look of such sovereign con- 
 tempt, as almost struck me blind, he began very delib- 
 erately to search his pockets; after a pause, which seem- 
 ed interminable, out came a letter. I was instantaneous- 
 ly 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 open- 
 ing 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 my- 
 self. ' Go,' continued my father ' Go, thou idle boy, de- 
 part instantly out of my 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 opeii- 
 ing my heart to my ever faithful friend, I expected cod- 
 solation from him; and I was not disappointed. Suspect- 
 ing 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 per- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. .ST 
 
 ceived 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 un- 
 bounded; hatred for Miss Dupee grew in his soul; yet, 
 when I knew she had the goodness never to communi- 
 cate my folly to any one, but my father, and this in a irp 
 vate 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 pas- 
 sion, yet I was prevented by my fears from its manifes- 
 tation. In fact it was not until I was in a situation to 
 make an election, as I supposed for life, that I was again 
 condemned 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 vision- 
 ary, as could have been conceived, in the pericranium of 
 the most confirmed lunatic. 
 
 The religious melancholy, so pleasing to my father, 
 again took possession 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 favorite 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 abundantly 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 garden; it 
 was the best in the place, and being seen and admired by 
 many, my pious brethren were apprehensive it would be- 
 come my idol; but we all have our idols. Mr. Wesley 
 was the idol of the niany.. One evening at a love-feast, 
 when the whole society were assembled, a pious sister, 
 while ilarrating her experiences, looked earnestly at Mr. 
 Wesley, vehemently exclaimed: ' O! sir, I consider my- 
 4* 
 
38 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 self 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 fAen expressed 
 observation. The ensuing day it became the subject of 
 animadversion, when I undertook to defend her, by re- 
 marking, 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 obtain- 
 ed this redeeming 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. He 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 depend- 
 ence, I had recourse 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 there-from 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 characters, too much 
 off our guard. This dear youth was not, like me, habitu- 
 ated to religion, he was not early disciplined by its most 
 rigid laws; I could with abundantly more facility turn 
 ^side with him, than he could pursue with me the nar- 
 row path, in which I had generally walked. We became 
 gradually too fond of pleasures, which would not bear 
 examination; yet they were such as the world denomina- 
 ted innocent, although they strongly impelled us to grati- 
 fications disallowed by religion. We were now fast ad- 
 vancing in life, and, with all the enthusiasm of youth, we 
 were planning schemes for futurity, when lo ! my pre- 
 cious, 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 con- 
 stantly by his bedside; the progress of the disease was as- 
 tonishingly rapid, and in a few days this dear, this amiable 
 youth, whom I loved as my own soul, expired in a strong 
 delirium ! Every one regretted the departure of this young 
 man, every one sympathized with his parents, and many 
 extended pity to me. I was indeed beyond expressior* 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 39 
 
 wretched; it was the fo'st 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 con- 
 ceived 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; in- 
 deed, the love they had borne their son, seemed to be en- 
 tirely transferred to me; but their sufferings were incal- 
 culably 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 broth- 
 er ! Never before did I witness such sad and heart-af- 
 fecting 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, 
 returned 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, exceed- 
 ingly alarmed, but in a few hours it prostrated my reason; 
 my mother appeared to me as a stranger, and although 
 I recognised my father, I was not afraid of him. I un- 
 derstood every thing which was said by those about me, 
 and I suffered much in consequence of their expressed 
 apprehensions arid-predictions : and I have often thought, 
 that attendants in the chamber of sickness do not sufficient- 
 ly consider the situation of the suffering patient, or the 
 possibility, that the freedom of their remarks may aug- 
 ment 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 persuasion that, should I be restored to health, my rea- 
 son was forever lost, were reconciled to my departure. 
 One particular I consider as astonishing; every thing, 
 which passed in my mind through the whole of this pro- 
 tracted delirium, I can to this day recollect as well as any 
 event which has taken place in any part of my life. Con- 
 trary to the expectations 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 cherish- 
 ing me as the son of their affection. The old gentleman 
 visited my father every day, and his lady was equally 
 intimate with my mother. I wept with them, I prayed 
 with them, and every day our mutual attachment ac- 
 quired new energy. They expressed their wishes to my 
 
4b 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 father, that I should become a perm^^nent resident in their 
 family. My father apparently terrified, was unqualified 
 in his rejection ! It would injure me by too high-raised ex- 
 pectations^ it would give me indulgences fatal- to my future 
 peace and happiness. For myself, I had recently enter- 
 tained an exalted opinion of my father; and for his re- 
 peated, 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 Avas theJr opinion of his wisdom, and 
 piety, that-they would have considered it criminal to cen- 
 sure him. 
 
 I v/as now the very shadow of my father : I visited, it is 
 true; biit it was always under his guardian care. He be- 
 gan to derive pleasure from conversing with me, and 
 our satisfaction was mutual : still, however, I experienc- 
 ed, in his presence, more of reverential awe, than filial 
 tenderness; yet I gained more from his society in the 
 last six months of his existence, than I had for many pre- 
 ceding years. His gradual decline, at length, rapidly ad- 
 vanced; 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 congratulated him, that God had heard 
 his prayers, and given him a son to supply his place, 
 when he should be called home; this, indeed, he consid- 
 ered as a great consolation. Often with tears of pleas- 
 ure has he wept over me, solemnly consecrating me by 
 fervent prayer and devout supplication. His devotional 
 exercises, in his family, 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 ofifered up, and always with 
 tears. For many years my father had lost his apprehen- 
 sions of death; but he always suffered more or less in the 
 dread of dying. The taking down the house of his 
 earthly tabernacle, — the agonies of dissolving nature, — 
 these anticipations frequently appalled his soul. We 
 had got into passion week; my father was taken from his 
 bed every day, until Good Friday, when it was impress- 
 ed upon his mind, that he should be with his Redeem- 
 er upon Easter Sunday. He indirectly communicated 
 this assurance to my mother; commanding me to be im- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 41 
 
 mediately summoned to his presence, when he thus ad- 
 dressed me: ' My son, the object of my souls' 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 1 leave you, have the fe- 
 licity of seeing, and hearing you take upon you the char- 
 acter you will very speedilybe called to sustain; let me hear 
 you pray in tlie family, before I depart.' There was some- 
 thing teVrible in the thought of his departure, though we 
 had for many years been taught to expect it, not only by 
 his declining 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 was more terrible 
 to me than death itself; I became convulsed; a cold per- 
 spiration was diffused over my frame; my father saw my 
 agony, and bidding me sit down, took my hand, and ad- 
 dressing 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 abash- 
 ed: ought you to venerate 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 redeeming 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 responsible character, this night.' I was dumb, f 
 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 con- 
 sider 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 
 behalf are graciously answered; they will, my beloved 
 children, be answered 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 thie 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; re- 
 covering himself, he called upon me to make good his 
 
42 LIFE OF HEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 expectations; I kneeled down by his bedside in convul- 
 sive agony, my mother kneeling upon the opposite side: 
 my brothers and sisters forming a circle which surround- 
 ed it, while the domestics kneeled near us. I prayed, I 
 wept, 1 audibly sobbed: while my, only not divine, father, 
 was in exstacy. When I had Unished, * 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 : ' thou, Almighty 
 God, who hath thus blessed, greatly blessed thy poor ser- 
 vant: Thou who hast been my God, and my guide, even 
 unto death, bless, ohl 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 ut- 
 terance; after a few moments, recovering himself a lit- 
 tle he mildly requested me to place him properly in his 
 bed. I was beyond measure shocked to see what a skele- 
 ton he had become, his bones in many places through his 
 skin. It was my wish to tarry with him through the 
 night, birt 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 ; before the morning dawned, 1 was summoned to 
 attend not a dying, but a deceased parent, whose value, 
 until that agonizing moment, I had never sufficiently ap- 
 preciated. My mother continued by his bedside, over- 
 whelmed 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 speak 
 ing, 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 res- 
 urrection, they shall be openly acknowledged, and ac- 
 quitted in the day of judgment, and made perfectly bless- 
 ed in the full enjoyment of God through eternity: Bless- 
 ed, perfectly bless — .' Blessed, he would have said, but 
 he breathed no more. When I approached the bed « " 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 43 
 
 death, I beheld the remains of the departed saint, pre- 
 cisely in the position in which a few hours before I had 
 placed him. Not a single struggle had the dear appre- 
 hensive man, during those expiring moments, which, 
 through his whole life, he had expected would be produc- 
 tive 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 sympathy, no individuals ap- 
 peared more deeply affected than my future patrons, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Little. My father was very dear to Mr. Little; 
 he mingled his tears with the widow, and her orphans. 
 It was unnecessary to tell me I had sustained an irrepara- 
 ble loss; my heart, my pierced heart, was every moment 
 making the avowal ; I could now fully appreciate my father's 
 worth; 1 felt I was bereaved, miserably bereaved; 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 overwhelm- 
 ing sorrow, and if I ever experienced the fervor of de- 
 votion, it was then, when, throwing abroad my supplica- 
 ting 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, 
 un dutiful reflections, which I had secretly tolerated 
 against this good, this honored man, while he was en- 
 during exquisite sufterings 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 mo- 
 ments of torture, that my father, as it should seem, first 
 became kno^vn 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 believed 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 possessed an uncommon share of 
 natural a ilities, and his acquirements were very re- 
 spectable. He had read mu h; History, Natural Philos- 
 ophy, Poetry, these were all familiar to him; but the 
 sacred Scriptures, and books of devotion, were his de- 
 light. Human productions constituted his amusement ^ 
 but the word of God was Yn^food. He was so acute a 
 
44 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 reasoner, that it was difficult to gain any advantage over 
 him in argument; yet he was easily provoked, but imme- 
 diately sensible of error; every deviation from propriety 
 was marked by tears. He had so much self-command^ 
 as never to strike a child in a passion ; this he denominat- 
 ed a demoniac sacrifice; he would ^rsi correct the angry 
 man; but however painful the act, he never omitted 
 what he conceived it his duty to bestow. He was a very 
 tender-hearted man, and his prayers were rarely unac- 
 companied 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 towards his heavenly 
 home — sometimes with impatience, when, correcting him- 
 self, 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 dis- 
 tinction or respectability is called out of time, to watch 
 around their remains, night as well as day, until the body 
 be entombed. The remains of my father were affection- 
 ately attended, but they were attended in an uncommon 
 manner; as he differed from others in life, so these last 
 honors differed from those usually bestowed. The 
 morning immediately succeeding his demise, our friends 
 and neighbors assembled in our dwelling, when Mr. Lit- 
 tle thiis addressed them : 'My friends, it has pleased God 
 to take unto himself the soul of our beloved brother : as 
 he lived, so he died, a pattern of excellence; we know, 
 we feel, that he has not left his equal. We unite with 
 this dear family in sensibly lamenting the departure of 
 our experienced friend, our guide, our comforter.' Here 
 he mingled his tears with those of our attendant friend. 
 After a long pause, he proceeded : ' Fellow mourners, the 
 greatest respect we can pay to the remains of our inesti- 
 mable, our heavenly guide, is to pass our time together in 
 this house of mourning, not only for him, but for our- 
 selves, 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 ad- 
 dress the throne of grace, after which I will read a ser- 
 mon, the production of Mr. Erskine, whose writings the 
 dear departed was remarkably fond.' The prayer, the 
 sermon, the concluding prayer, deeply affected everyone; 
 and the evening witnessed a renewal of these pious ex- 
 ercises. Thus were our nights and days devoted, until 
 the interment. On that day the throng was prodigious. 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURSAY. 45 
 
 The worth, the good actions of my father, were the 
 theine 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-yard, a 
 sprig of bays, which, after the body was deposited, was 
 thrown over the coffin. But no words can describe my 
 agonizing, my terrific sensations, when I reflected upon 
 the charge which had devolved upon me. I remember- 
 ed my father's words, on the evening preceding his exit, 
 and 1 felt myself reduced to the necessity of assuming his 
 place in the family; but how much was I to suffer by 
 comparison with him, whose place I was appointed to 
 fill: yet, had I wished to avoid entering upon my office, 
 my mother, the friends of my father, would have borne 
 testimony against me. They thronged around me, they 
 entreated me immediately to take charge of the family, 
 and to commence my arduous task by devout supplica- 
 tions to Almighty God I complied with their united 
 wishes; but no tongue can utter, no language can delin- 
 eate the strong emotionsof my soul; again I was convuls- 
 ed, again I agonized; the whole family were inexpressi- 
 bly affected. It was the most melancholy evening I had 
 ever experienced; but my benighted spirit was sudden- 
 ly 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 
 behalf, would be answered in my favor. I was encourag- 
 ed too by my mother, and by the friends of my father, who 
 besought the Lord in my behalf and were daily reminding 
 me of the interest, which my deceased parent^ unquestion- 
 ably 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 un- 
 equal to the arduous task I had undertaken. My mother 
 was my ever-ready aid and counsellor; but my brothers 
 and sisters always remembered, that I was not their fa- 
 ther; and they were highly displeased, whenever I pre- 
 sumed 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 correction, se- 
 riously chastising my brother, for the purpose of restor- 
 ing him to the narrow path, from which he had wander- 
 ed. 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 incor* 
 5 
 
46 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 rigible, my other brothers, and my sisters, enlisted on his 
 side. My mother, dear honored sufferer, was ex- 
 ceedingly distressed; she had in fact a difficult part to 
 act; she was fearful, whichever side she might espouse, 
 would, bj'^ creating new irritation, make bad worse, and 
 yet, upon an occasion so interesting, we would not allow 
 her to be silent; she must positively attend to our appeals. 
 But however arduous her task, she possessed discretion 
 sufficient to meet it, and to produce an ultimatum com- 
 pletely satisfactory to all parties. 
 
 She replied to our remonstrances, by a request to be al- 
 lowed 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 affec- 
 tionate father, once filled. Can you remember the last 
 time he addressed you from that seat. Let me, my dear 
 children, let me repeat, as well as my memory will per- 
 mit, what he said to us the last time he ^iddressed us from 
 that chair. ' Come,' said he, ' come near me, my child- 
 ren^' 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 supplica- 
 tion for him, he most affectingly said : ' I am, my dear 
 child, hastening to that heaven, for which I have so long 
 waited. For you, ever since you were born, I have wept 
 and prayed; graciously hath my God inclined his ear to 
 the voice of my supplication. He hath blessed me, by 
 giving me to see you, before I die, prepared, by divine 
 favor, to take my place; I leave you, my 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 forsake you. Nay, 
 my own beatified spirit may obtain increasing felicity, by 
 being sometimes permitted to behold the order and har- 
 mony of my beloved family, while collected before the 
 throne of grace, with the love of God and love of each 
 other glowing with divine exstasy 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; I shall no 
 more be able to pray with you, to advise, or to direct 
 you. But, my children, I leave with you a brother, who 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 47 
 
 will perform to you tne part of a father; I leave him in 
 my place; it is my command, that he tread in my steps, 
 as far as I have proceeded in the path of justice; and, my 
 dear children, I conjure you 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 your love to God, or even to yourselves, 
 contribute all in your power to strengthen the hands of 
 your brother.' You remember he then embraced each of 
 youj 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 affectingly, so tenderly admonished us 
 
 My mother paused, as if influenced by sacred awe of the 
 presence she had supposed. We audibly wept; we rush- 
 ed 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. 
 
 Record continued, until the Author's Departure from Ireland, 
 
 Launch'd from the shore, on life's rough ocean tost, 
 To my swoU'n eye my star of guidance lost; 
 Torn, from my grasp, my path-directing helm, 
 While waves, succeeding waves, my prospects whelm. 
 
 By the malpractices of the second husband of my ma- 
 ternal grandmother, a large share of my mothers patri- 
 mony passed into other hands. I accidentally obtained 
 intelligence of some fraudulent proceedings 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 resided upon the estate, was sued for 
 rent; to this person I communicated 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 gentle- 
 
4S LIFE Ot REV. JOHN MURRAri 
 
 man, who sued the tenant, summoned me, as a witness, 
 to prove that the tenant had occupied the house the speci- 
 fied number of years; thus I was 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 here- 
 after be compelled to pay it to another. ' To whom ? ' 
 interrogated the court. ' To Mrs. Murray and her child- 
 ren, to whom the estate in question properly belongs.' 
 I was called upon for an explanation, and I boldly pledg- 
 ed myself to prove the truth of the testhnony delivered by 
 the tenant; adding that I could make such a statement, 
 as would render the affair abundantly clear to their hon- 
 ors. 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 honorable court, while I observed, 
 that, as I was not sufficiently opulent to procure council, 
 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 grand- 
 mother; and further, that, had the man been living, the 
 right of the disposal was not vested in him. I consumed 
 a full hour and a half, in unfolding a scene of wickedness, 
 not to be defended^ and I closed, by grateful acknowl- 
 edgements to their honors, for the patience they had ex- 
 ercised. The jury retired^ and speedily returned with a 
 verdict in favor of the tenant. I immediately entered my 
 claim, and a trial commenced, which terminated in 
 my favor; and I not only obtained the house in question, 
 but two others, in like circumstances, to the no small sat- 
 isfaction of the public, and the mortification of the great 
 man and his lawyers. We immediately took possession 
 of the house; and our utmost gratitude to that God, wha 
 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 every thing useful, 
 and beautiful; herbs, fruits, and flowers, in great abund- 
 ance; 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 attentive to public aflTairs; de- 
 riving a kind of amusement from what was passing abroad, 
 which we could not obtain at home. We had many vis- 
 itors, and consequently we frequently visited; yet no in- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 49 
 
 dividuals 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 j 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 ultimately made to my 
 mother. Mr. Little was rather advanced in years; he 
 commenced his career without property, but he was 
 prudent and industrious; his lady was equally so: she 
 brought her husband no more than one hundred pounds 
 sterling, but she was a portion in herself. Although un- 
 commonly 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 industry. 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 de- 
 * parted sons, the deceased husband, and father, passed in 
 review; and were alternately the subjects of conversa- 
 tion 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 beloved by every individual of my fami- 
 ly; 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 imme- 
 diately take possession of the apartment of his deceased 
 friend (my lamented son,) and I shall bless God for thus 
 making up my loss. Mrs. Little, who sat by bathed in 
 tears, most cordially united her solicitations: the offer 
 was too great to be rejected, we accepted it with becom- 
 ing gratitude, and, what rendered a proposal so liberal 
 abundantly more pleasing, was an appearance, on the 
 part of our benefactors, of 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 
 
60 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 morning, I wept bitterly, so did my widowed 
 mother, and her children; and my tears again flowed, up- 
 on entering the apartments of my dear young friend, 
 with whom I had passed so many pleasing hours. But, 
 I was received by my new parents, and sisters, as the 
 dearest of sons, and as the brother of their affection. Joy 
 soon exhilarated my spirits, and brightened upon my 
 countenance: I had the warm congratulations of all my 
 friends, for it was noised abroad, that this very opulent 
 gentleman had adopted me as his son, and they went so 
 far as to add, his son and heir. All this was very pleas- 
 ing 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 un- 
 cle, without deigning to speak to me, they studiously sought 
 opportunities of insulting me. This gave me pain, but it 
 did me no real injury; for, upon every instance of invidious 
 conduct toward me, my parental friends, and their fami- 
 ly, 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 sacer- 
 dotal 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 vvith which I had been connected, occasionally 
 exhorted; and I had been frequently urged by several of 
 their preachers to aid them in their labors. Upon this 
 journey I was, if I may so express myself, absolutely 
 ensnared; accompanying my friend to the assembled con- 
 gregation, 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 multi- 
 tude. Thus, for the first time, I preached to a large con- 
 course of serious and attentive hearers, in public; 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. ^l 
 
 preacher. This made some noise in our little world; but, 
 as it was not displeasing to my honored friends, I was not 
 dissatisfied. My inveterate enemies, however, being the 
 nearest relations of the family in which I resided, were 
 constantly endeavoring to undermine my interest in the 
 heart of their kinsman. I was to pass some time in a 
 neighboring 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 m}^ v/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. I mentioned this circumstance to my mother, in 
 presence of one of her neighbors; and without announc- 
 ing my design, I immediately returned home, for the pur- 
 pose of rectifying the error. Upon my unexpected ap- 
 pearance before Mr. Little, with information of his mis- 
 take, he smiled, and said, that he never kept his 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 agreeably; but whether 
 I threw away the bounty of my benefactor, I do not, at 
 this period, recollect : I only know that I brought not a 
 shilling homo with me; in fact, I was never sufficiently 
 sensible of the value of money, to retain it in my posses- 
 sion. I was received, on my return from this visit, with 
 uncommon pleasure; and some time after, my kind patron, 
 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 hus- 
 band of my neice, called upon me, requesting a private 
 audience; and when retired into this room, he observed, 
 that he conceived himself in duty bound to apprize 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 intended to give you gold; but that you, conceiving 
 I had made a mistake, forbore to appropriate the money, 
 and speedily returned home, for the purpose of making 
 
52 LIFE or REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the communication. Our clergyman departed, and you 
 will easily conceive, not a little humbled. I mention this 
 circumstance to you, my son, to put you upon your guard. 
 It is my wish, that, in future you should not be so com- 
 municative.' This little anecdote was exultingly repeat- 
 ed to me by the good lady, and her daughters, who never 
 failed triumphantly to report every little occurrence, 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 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 depend- 
 ent resident in the family of her brother. Her characte;- 
 was marked by duplicity, and she delighted in mischiei". 
 The tales she propagated were as various, as the parties 
 which listened to her narrations; and all her communica- 
 tions were made under the strict seal of secrecy. Young 
 and un&uspecting, 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 circumstances, thus confided, were, to my 
 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 conversation, give to their fireside new 
 charms; and both parents, and daughters, were mortified 
 and disappointed. Mr. Little expressed his disapproba- 
 tion 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 
 
 * It must ever be the cause of grief and mortification to the really 
 liberal christian, to find in the conduct of professors that want of 
 charity which characterized, in this case, that of Mr. Wesley. 
 Though himself in a situation by no means enviable j looked upon by 
 many as an enemy of the truth, he nevertheless adopted those mea- 
 sures which were calculated to prevent inquiry, and destroy that lib- 
 erty of conscience for which he himself contended. Well would it 
 have been for the world, and especially for the cause of Christ, had 
 this been the last instance of the kind. Ed. 
 
l,IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 53 
 
 US we are disposed to prove ourselves; you will be abun- 
 dantly more happy at home, than you can be abroad 
 You should supply to us the place of our deceased child- 
 ren : we expect consolation from your society. You are 
 greatly beloved in this house; your enemies are not under 
 this roof» For God's sake, if 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 
 our mother, do not thus conduct.' Thus, with many en- 
 treaties, did this dear, affectionate lady, endeavor to ar- 
 rest my wanderings; and, while attending to her friendly 
 lectures, my best resolutions were in full force, and I de- 
 termined never to offend again. But going out to meet- 
 ing, 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 exce})ted, had frequently retircid to rest. This 
 
 food girl waited to apprize me of her father's displeasure. 
 Inch did she expostulate-^ and her expostulations were 
 not always unmingled with tears. My mother was rend- 
 ered extremely wretched: I saw the gathering storm, but 
 I had not sufficient fortitude to abide its ravages. My 
 enemies derived consolation from my indiscretion, and 
 my infelicities daily augmented. Whenever I was cen- 
 sured, 1 was rendered more abundantly unhappy; and I 
 formed a serious resolution to quit both the family of Mr. 
 Little, and the country, and to seek an asylum in my na- 
 tive plr.ce — England. For many days I continued obdu- 
 rate, no remonstrances could influence me; I must abso- 
 lutely 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 to Miss Little. Nay, her father 
 was informed, by his kindred, that I was absolutely clan- 
 destinely seeking to gain the affections 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 parlor, for the purpose 
 of making a communication, which she conceived would 
 be of consequence to me. We sat some time in a con- 
 versation, by which we were mutually interested; she 
 
34 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 
 
 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 inattention to the wishes of her parents occa- 
 sioned them; and, upon this part of her subject, she be- 
 came affected even to tears. I also was greatly affected, 
 and for the first time in my life^ taking her hand, I im- 
 pressed upon it a kiss of fraternal afiection; when to our 
 great astonishiiient, her father entered the apartment. 
 Had we seen a spectre, we could not have been more ap- 
 palled. He stood for some moments speechless, until 
 fixing his eyes indignantly on my face, which was cer- 
 tainly covered with confusion, in a very pointed and sig- 
 nificant manner, he said, ' So, sir! ' and, taking his 
 daughter by the hand, he conducted her from the parlor, 
 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 enforce the reports 
 retailed to Mr. Little, by his kindred. I have often won- 
 dered, that, at an age so susceptible of impressions, I did 
 not become more warmly attached to Miss Little: she 
 was a most lovely 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 ad- 
 dressed me in the language of kindness; 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 retire into the back parlor, where she 
 would speedily fjin me. With trembling dread I obeyed; 
 she soon appeared, the shutters were closed, 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 andther for myself; she sat down, and 
 1 seated myself by her. After a pause, she hegan : ' TeW 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 55 
 
 me, I conjure you, tell me, what I ought to understand 
 by the appearances of this morning ? answer honestly the 
 questions I shall put to you: but I know your answers 
 will be literally true. My poor girl is very much dis- 
 tressed; her father is very reserved, 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 became 
 greatly affected with what 1 heard, and, deeply sensible 
 of her goodness, we were mingling our tears, when thus 
 thrown off my guard,I regret to say, that I am apprehen- 
 sive I committed an unpardonable 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 lil)erty, 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 discomposed, 
 while her father, with a voice rendered tremulous by an- 
 ger, significantly said— •' So, sir ! ' — and conducted his 
 daughter out of the room. This, my dear lady, is the 
 whole I know of the matter; I fear. Miss Little will never 
 forgive me, for creating her so much distress : I had in- 
 finitely rather be dead, than alive; I dread the eye of Mr. 
 Little, and it i^ my opinion, I ought immediately to quit 
 your hospitable mansion. ' Alas ! my dear child, I know 
 not what to say; you believe you ought to quit us! 
 Would to God you had never thus thought. This per- 
 suasion 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 my- 
 self, that you would become a large addition to our do- 
 mestic felicity. But you are apprehensive you have of- 
 fended 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, 
 ^ieived 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 f* To 
 
56 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 
 
 quit this house, to quit this country. The dear lady 
 threw her maternal arms around me, and with flowing 
 tears interrogated: 'Is it thus you will avoid offending 
 us ? Ah, my dear child, how lictle 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 tales 
 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 responsible for my fami- 
 ly; you shall not be molested in this house, only convince 
 us, that you love us; do but prove, that you are more at- 
 tached to us, than to any other individuals, and we are 
 satisfied. Do but reflect, how delightfully we might pass 
 our time together. The business of the day closed, and 
 we assembled in the parlor: you with your book, we 
 your admiring audience, until we are summoned to sup- 
 per; then, after you have closed our serene day by an ap- 
 propriate, 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 re- 
 freshing. Why, what a paradise would our abode be- 
 come. But, my child, when you pass every evening 
 abroad, you know not what a melancholy group you ren- 
 der us. We are dumb, our countenances are sad; our 
 silence is sometimes broken by Mr. Little, who ques- 
 tions in anger, ' Where is our young gentleman to-night? 
 any society but ours ! ' 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 con- 
 duct; 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, in- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 57 
 
 deed, 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 communicated 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 heaven- 
 ly Father, and', with a devout heart, I implored his sup- 
 porting aid. A petition to my Creator always possessed 
 the potent power of refreshing my soul; I was greatly re- 
 freshed, and I looked forward with renewed complacency. 
 In a few hours, I was summoned to dinner; at the door 
 of the dining-room, 1 was met by Mr. Little; no cloud 
 rested upon his countenance; I entered the dining-room, 
 where were seated my charming, ray faithful 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 fea- 
 tures of a fine countenance, a fascination which dwelleth 
 not in words. Soon after dinner my little friend, the 
 youngest daughter of my patron, visited me in my cham- 
 ber, and bestowed upon me many caresses. 
 
 Halcyon days and months now revolved; I fondly fan- 
 cied I had surmounted every difficulty, and I anticipated 
 a succession of delightful enjoyments; yet again I expe- 
 rienced the satiety, consequent upon one unvaried routine. 
 He, who had appointed me for a life of wandering, 
 gave mo a disposition which relucted at the constant 
 recurrence of the same scene; I ventured to pass one 
 evening abroad; another, and another succeeded. I 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 fired; the world 
 could not have longer detained me; I condemned my- 
 self for wasting so much time; my heart, my soul was 
 in England, in London. Let the world bestow its cen- 
 sures, London was the place, it contained every thing de 
 lightful; I was on tiptoe to be gone; if I was not ap- 
 proved by the family, so much the better, there would 
 be less ingratitude in quitting it. My dear maternal 
 friend once more sought, and obtained a private inter- 
 view; this I wished to avoid; she saw my reluctance, 
 and was convinced she should not succeed. She re- 
 proached me : this, though painful, I could, bear better 
 
9V LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 vary- 
 ing countenance was unutterable; tears coursed each 
 other down her pallid cheeks. Pausing for a few mo- 
 ments, she said: 'Poor unhappy youth, you know not 
 what you are about, where you are going, and what you 
 are doomed to suffer. Here, then, ends all my pleas- 
 ing prospects; now indeed I have lost my sons; poor Anna, 
 she has now, in truth, no brother. 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 de- 
 scription of my sensations. I retired to my chamber, 
 my chamber now no more; I wept, I audibly sobbed. In 
 imagination I beheld the beloved friend, by whom it was 
 once occupied; he seemed to upbraid me for my conduct; 
 how torturing were the pangs I suffered. Upon the eve- 
 ning of this sad day, my cherub friend entered the cham- 
 ber, and for the last time, during my abode therein; pret- 
 ty 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 going 
 away to-morrow, she knows not where, and that she 
 shall never see you again; and she walks about her cham- 
 ber, and wrings her hands, O! dear, 0! 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; I 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 by 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 endeavor- 
 ed to avoid it. Sometime elapsed before he spoke; he 
 repeatedly attempted to speak, but mingling 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 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY ft* 
 
 no business of mine; yet, I suppose it must be my busi- 
 ness 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 for- 
 ever bless you. ' Do you hear, sir, leave behind you 
 my son's fowling-piece, and here ends my air-built cas- 
 tle;' 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 back upon this once delightful 
 home, with mingling emotions of sorrow, mortification, 
 regret, and anger; all combining to produce unutterable 
 anguish. My frame trembled, as I turned from the door; 
 a chillness 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 respecting the cause of 
 my indisposition. I related, with my usual frankness, 
 every particular, and in a short time, the story circulat- 
 ed, and with all the variations commonly attached to 
 interesting articles of intelligence. I was soon sufficient- 
 ly restored to reach the residence of my mother; where 
 a new scene of sorrow awaited me. The poor suflferer 
 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 she con- 
 templated, at no very distant period, a union between 
 Miss Little, 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 forever; the torture of her mind 
 was, as I said, beyond the reach of language : but neither 
 her tears nor entreaties, 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 re- 
 proaching 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 
 
60 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 received from Mr. Little, not a penny of 
 which 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 exigences. Through your filial 
 exertions, I am established in a dwelling, 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, 1 
 doubt not. His goodness and mercy, which have hither- 
 to followed me, will still be manifest, both in my provi- 
 sion, and preservation; and in that of my helpless child- 
 ren.' My heart seemed ready to burst; conscience whis- 
 pered, 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 
 in^ances, striking instances, in my long and wearisome 
 life, combine to prove, that 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 determined 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 resolution; and my mother, 
 from early life devoutly religious mildly resigned her- 
 self to an event which she considered inevitable. * I 
 see,' said she, * supplications are ineffectual; now I am 
 indeed a widow !' Starting at the desolate term [widow], 
 so mournfully uttered, I hastened to my chamber, and 
 prostrating myself before the throne of Almighty 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 af- 
 fiance 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 pil- 
 low on the succeeding morning, wonderfully refreshed. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 61 
 
 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 indeed a time of prayer. My heart ad- 
 dressed the Father of mercies; I confessed, with great 
 sincerity, my manifold errors; and I petitioned for a con- 
 tinuance of unmerited kindness; I beseeched God to look 
 with pity on a poor, destitute, helpless being, commenc- 
 ing a journey through a world, with which he was un- 
 acquainted. I entreated our God, in behalf of my suf- 
 fering mother, and her helpless orphans, that He would 
 constantly abide with them; and that he would vouch- 
 safe 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 fall- 
 eth not to the ground without our heavenly Father, I 
 could not thus leave my pleasant home, and wander I 
 knew not whither, except the Lord directed. And, em- 
 bracing me, when on the eve of my departure, she af- 
 fectingly 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 coming up from this 
 wilderness, I fondly meant to lean; but God will not al- 
 low 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 contin- 
 ually offered up in your behalf; and oh! my son, al- 
 though we part, never perhaps to meet again in this 
 world, yet let us meet every day before that throne j 
 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 bedewed my face, and again drop- 
 ping upon her knees, she once more lifted her stream- 
 ing eyes to heaven in my behalf, when starting up, she 
 hastened to the retirement of her chamber, and instantly 
 closed the door. I stood like a statue; I could not move; I 
 was almost petrified with 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 endeavored to give 
 them that consolation which I did not myself possess. 
 But, hastening from this scene of sorrow, there was one 
 pang which I calculated to escape. The youngest child, 
 
 6* 
 
62 lIFE OP REV. JOHN MtJRRAY. 
 
 a beautiful little boy, who bore the name of my father 
 — sweet cherub— I dreaded seeing him, and determined 
 to spare myself this torture; but as I slowly, and pen- 
 sively passed from the house, believing that what was 
 worse than the bitterness of death had passed, this love- 
 ly 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, 1 attempt- 
 ed 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 plaintive, 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 choked me. 
 I left him — yes, I left this youngest of my father's child- 
 ren, this dear object of my soul's aflfection, 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 thousand times less of suf- 
 fering, have quitted the clay-built tabernacleof my spirit; 
 nor had I aught 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 him- 
 self. 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 on 
 slowly; a frame, enfeebled by mental agonies, is not 
 moved without difficulty. I had sent my trunk on in the 
 waggon, 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 en- 
 counter any human eye : It was with much difficulty, I at- 
 tained 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 frou^ 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 68 
 
 which I had departed; my eye eagerly ran over the whole 
 scene. Upon a gentle ascent, directly opposite, em- 
 bosomed in a thick grove of ash, sycamore, and fruit trees, 
 appeared the lovely dwelling of my mother.. Behind this 
 eminence, still ascending, was outstretched that garden, 
 in which, with great delight, I had so often labored: 
 where I had planted herbs, fruits and flowers,, in great 
 variety : 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 fi'uit trees, in the full 
 expectation of reaping the reward of my labors, through 
 many successive seasons. 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 th^ garden to the house; there sat my weeping, my 
 supplicating mother, at that moment, probably, uniting 
 with her deserted children in sending up to heaven pe- 
 titions for my safety. I turned to the right; there tow- 
 ered the stately mansion, I was bid to consider as my 
 own; there dwelt the matron, who hoped I should have 
 been unto her as a son, and who had cherished me as 
 such; there dwelt the charming young lady, whose vir- 
 tuous attachment might have constituted the solace of 
 my existence. The tear of sorrow, the sigh of disappoint- 
 ment, 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 abun- 
 dantly shed abroad in your hearts. 
 
 As thus, from scene to scene, my eager eye with tear- 
 ful haste had wandered, my heart reiterated its unuttera- 
 ble agonies; and, as I considered my situation as resem-, 
 bling that of the father of mankind^ when driven from 
 tha 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 conviction — 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 fareweUj dear, much loved sisters, brothers, and 
 thou sweet innocent, thou smiling, thoughtless, and there- 
 fore happy babe, once more farewell; and you dear sec- 
 
64 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ond parents, and thou sister of the friend ofmy soul, with 
 the beauteous cherub, whose infantile caresses, while pour- 
 ing 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 of- 
 ten wept, and prayed, and joyed, and sorrowed, once more 
 I bid you adieu j adieu ye flowery walks, where 1 have 
 spent so many happy hours; ye thick embowering shades, 
 reared by these hands, ye health-restoring herbs, ye sweet 
 delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, receive my last fare- 
 well. Still I lingered — still I gazed around, and yet again, 
 another look — His past, and I am gone forever. I turned 
 from the view, and have never since beheld those charm- 
 ing 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 beyond the present 
 state, I was enabled to proceed, until 1 beheld, in per- 
 spective, the spires of the opulent city, which 1 was ap- 
 proaching. 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 endeavored to derive consolation from their 
 unquestioned attachment. I had frequently preached in 
 this city, and I had reason to suppose my labors had been 
 acceptable. In the city of Cork, my paternal grandmoth- 
 er, with her daughter, my aunt Champion, and her child- 
 ren, still lived. My society would be sought, and I should 
 again be engaged in. preaching; these considerations less- 
 ened the weight of aflfliction, by which I had been sorely 
 pressed. I arrived at the mansion of my grandmother 
 some time before sunset, and I was very joyfully received; 
 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 assured them, I came not ta- 
 solicit aid; and rising from my chair,.! bade them formal- 
 ly adieu, quitting their presence, and their house. The 
 eldest daughter of my aunt, a very beautiful young lady, 
 and as good as beautiful,whose heart was formed for pity 
 and for tenderness, followed me down stairs, and entreat- 
 ed me to continue with them, but her well-designed in- 
 terference was ineflectual. I had been severely censured, 
 and I could not bear it; I could have borne it better, if it 
 had been unmerited. I left my lovely cousin in tears, nor 
 did I again see, or hear from any individual of the family. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 65 
 
 until one evening after I had preached in the Methodist 
 Church, my grandmother advanced, took my hand, and 
 requested 1 would attend her home : I confess I was de- 
 lighted with her condescension; for my mind had greatly 
 suffered from the reflection, that I had given pain to the 
 dear and respectable mother of my deceased father.. 1 
 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 Om- 
 nipotent Power; God has 'designed you for himself; you 
 are a chosen instrument 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 remembering, that God's 
 works of providence are his most holy, wise, and powerful, 
 preserving and governing all his creatures, and all their 
 actions^ Do not, I say, reflect upon yourself; I confess, 
 I was wrong in censuring you; God's way is in the great 
 deep, we ought to acquiesce in all the dispensations of 
 our Creatar. 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 going to England. The Methodists solicited 
 me 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 re- 
 ligious 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 conceived by me, as the doctrines of 
 God. Yet I was aware, that an attempt to defend prin- 
 ciples, so obnoxious, would subject me to the censure, 
 and ill treatment of religious enemies, and I had experi- 
 enced, that religious enemies were the most to be dread- 
 ed ; Yet, as I could not be silent, and as I dared not dis- 
 semble, I contented myself with observing, that I had 
 been accustomed to hear my respectable father speak in 
 
66 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 favor of those doctrines. But although, in my public 
 labors, I never asserted aught that could expose me to 
 censure, yet I was more than suspected of Calvinism, and 
 consequent resentments Vi^ere enforced against mc My 
 residence in the city of Cork was thus rendered unpleas- 
 ant, and my impatience to embark for England was 
 augmented. I was, however, obliged to continue two 
 weeks longer, during which period, I endeavored 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 had so well filled ! and I secretly resolved to 
 enter into connexion with him, if I should be so happy as 
 to meet him, after my arrival in London. I had many 
 delightful opportunities in private circles with this gentle- 
 man; he was a most entertaining companion. But, as 
 Mr. Wesley marked him with a jealous eye, he dispatch- 
 ed, 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 censur- 
 ed, 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 contin- 
 ually upon the alert against Mr. Whitefield, he himself 
 evinced not the smallest inclination for opposition, or even 
 defence; he appeared perfectly content with the enjoy- 
 ments of the day, rather prefering a state of independence, 
 to an intimate connexion with any sect or party. His 
 choice, at that time, was decidedly the life of an itinerant, 
 and he then evidently shrunk from the cares, and embar- 
 rassments, attached to the collecting, building, and re- 
 pairing churches. And never, I believe, did any man in 
 public life enjoy more: he was the admiration of the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 67 
 
 many, and an object of the warmest affection in those 
 social circles, in which it was his felicity to mingle. The 
 pleasures of the table were highly zested by Mr. White- 
 field, 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 melancholy, which depressed my spirits on my depar- 
 ture from home. I recollect 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 fortune, 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 admir- 
 ed the master of the house; his lady I had never before 
 seen; she was the object of general adulation; her person 
 was uncommonly elegant, and her face dazzlingly beauti- 
 ful; she had received a useful ^ as well as a fashionable 
 education, and she was mistress of all the polite accom- 
 plishments. 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 charming wife, 
 mother, friend. I beheld the group with rapture; for 
 envy, as I have elsewhere observed, was never an ingre- 
 dient in my composition, and I hung with a sort of chast- 
 ened pleasure, upon the anecdotes furnished by Mr. 
 Whitefield; the whole scene was captivatingly entertain- 
 ijig, and highly interesting: I was ready to wish the night 
 might endure forever. Alas! it Vvas but one night; I 
 never after entered 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 theVemote cause of my suffering, 
 many years afterwards, great and very serious inquie- 
 tude.. I left the house of my friend, Mr. Trinbath, ex- 
 pecting to have seen him again and again; I left him an 
 object of envy to many; but I never saw him more, nor 
 did he, poor gentleman, long continue the object of envy 
 to any one. 
 
 This was the last night I spent in this city, in this 
 country. The vessel in v.'hich I had engaged a passage 
 to Bristol, was now ready for sailing; 1 had only time, 
 upon the morning of the ensuing day, to bid a hasty adieu 
 
6o LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY 
 
 to my grandmother, and her family, with a few 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 govern- 
 ed by a half brother of my father. I beheld it with a hu- 
 mid eye; but the vessel had a fair wind, and we passed 
 it rapidly. I retired to the cabin; my too retentive mem- 
 ory retraced the scenes I had witnessed, since first I 
 reached Hibernia'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 harbor; 
 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 friend- 
 ship; all, all were drawn up in order before me; it was 
 another parting scene. Yet I cherished hope, I might 
 again return. Alas! alas! this hope was delusive; it was 
 an everlasting adieu. Dear country of guileless and 
 courteous manners, of integrity, and generous hospitality, 
 I bid you adieu; adieu ye verdant hills, ye fertile vallies, 
 ye gurgling rills, which every where cross the path of the 
 traveller; ye delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, ye syl- 
 van scenes, for contemplation made — adieu perhaps for- 
 ever. 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; 
 where no poisonous reptile could ever yet procure suste- 
 nance. 
 
LIFE OF REV JOHN MURRAT. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Arrival in England ^ and further Progress of the inexpe- 
 rienced Traveller. 
 
 Hail, native Isle, for deeds of worth renowned,. 
 By Statesmen, Patriots, Poets, Heroes crowned j 
 For thee, my friends, my weeping friends, I leave, 
 To thy blest arms, thy wandering son receive. 
 
 r NOW began anew era of my melancholy life. Losing 
 sight of land, I again retired to my cabin:: alas! 'busy 
 thought was too busy for my peaceJ Launched upon 
 the wide ocean, I was speeding to a country, my native 
 country indeed; but a country, in which I could boast 
 neither relation, nor friend, not even a single acquaint- 
 ance. I was quitting a country, in which I had both re- 
 lations and friends, with many pleasant acquaintances:, 
 yet this consideration did not much depress me; for al- 
 though my heart was pained, exquisitely pained, when 
 I reflected on those I was leaving, yet I was in raptures, 
 at the thought of England. 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 gratifi- 
 cation. Several gentlemen were in the cabin, who took 
 kind notice of me; they asked me no questions, so I was 
 not embarrassed; but they contributed to render my pas- 
 sage agreeable,, which, however, was very short; for the 
 identical passage, which, when I accompanied my father, 
 consumed full nine weeks, was now performed in three 
 days; but, exempted 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 op- 
 portunity of' going ashore at Pill, and onc« more greeting 
 the good old lady, that had many years before, so tenderly 
 compa.ssionated 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 rap- 
 ture. 1 was determined on walking to Bristol, it was on- 
 ly five miles, and through a most enchanting country. 
 O . what transport of delight I felt, when, with the en- 
 
70 LIFE. OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 suing mommg, I commenced my journey. The birds, 
 sweetly carolled, the flowers enamelled the meadows, the 
 whole scene was paradisiacal. It was England. But 
 where was I going.? I knew not. How to be employed? 
 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 here to 
 kill time, and to protract a debilitated existence by the 
 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 in- 
 ternal 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 direc- 
 tion and protection .'' ' Certainly, where has my mind 
 wandered, that I have not thus done before .'' The emo- 
 tions of my heart were at this moment indescribable. 
 When I last gazed upon these scenes, my prudent, vigi- 
 lant 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 protector, 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, sof- 
 tened and cheered by these consoling suggestions, instant- 
 ly began its supplications; there I prayed, and there I 
 remembered Jacob upon the field of Padan-aram; I com- 
 mended 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, inquiring 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 consequently introduced to many 
 of the Methodists in that city. It maj- 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, besides the jealousy which 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 71 
 
 had taken place in the minds of my religious brethrenj 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 pro- 
 posed, deriving, from every social interview, abundant 
 consolation. Upon the evening previous to my depar- 
 ture from Bristol, I 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 excel- 
 lent company; I was then a stranger. They were high- 
 ly 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 acquaint- 
 ance with regret, for I was' 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 pensive- 
 ly pleasing: I was advancing towards the metropolis; 
 hitherto I had experienced the goodness of God, and I 
 indulged the most sanguine hopes. My heart was greatly 
 elated; I beheld the surrounding scenes with rapture; I 
 was not wearied by my walk, it was only sixteen 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 set- 
 ting 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 ex- 
 pressed my delight, and my gratitude, ' These,' said I, 
 in a strain of rapture, * These are thy glorious Avorks, 
 Parent of good; Almighty Father, thine this universal 
 frame; these wonderous fair— surpassing wonder far — 
 thyself how wonderous then ! ' Tears gushed in my eyes, 
 
73 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 as I thus expressed the transport of my soul. The men 
 were astonished, yet they seemed pleased j I asked them 
 the name of the river? They replied, 'the Avon, sir.' 
 Then, said I, it flows through the native place of Shaks- 
 peare. 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 plea- 
 sures, 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 up- 
 on me, as is the custom with low people, upon these oc- 
 casions; 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 neighbor — I'll warrant 
 thee good cheer.' I thanked this kind man, and my heart 
 swelled with gratitude to that Being, in whose hands are 
 the hearts of all his creatures, for thus meeting me on my 
 entrance into this strange city, with loving-kindness, and 
 tender mercy. We walked on together, mutually delight- 
 ed; I, with every thing I saw, and my companions with 
 me, for my expressed satisfaction. 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 seat- 
 ed. She was a very different character from her husband, 
 her manners were even polished; she entered into friendly 
 conversation with me, and we derived much satisfaction 
 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 forthwith placed upon 
 the table, of which I partook with appetite. We after- 
 wards sang one of the Methodist hymns, and we united in 
 solemn prayer; while my heart acknowledged all the 
 fervor of devotion, even my host himself seemed affected 
 and pleased, declaring he esteemed himself fortunate in 
 
LIFE or HEV. JOHN MURRAY. 73 
 
 meeting me. I was introduced to a handsome 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 «very 
 mark of satisfaction; we breakfasted together, sang a 
 hymn, and addressed the throne of grace, when the good 
 man went forth to the labors 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 re- 
 cently settled in Bath, a Mr. Tucker, who had been a 
 preacher in Ireland. My heart leaped at this intelligence; 
 of all the preachers, with whom I had ever associated, this 
 man possessed the greatest share of my affection. His 
 tender, innocent, childlike disposition, 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 inforn>ed me, that, by the death of his fa- 
 ther, he had recently come into possession of thirty 
 thousand pounds sterling, I became apprehensive I should 
 not be recognised. But I had occasion to reproach 
 myself for suspicions, for no sooner was I conducted to 
 his dwelling, than he caught me in his arms, and express- 
 ed the highest satisfaction. 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 pos- 
 sessed a larger share of my venerating affection : I love 
 this young person as his son, and I 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! but I must be her guest no longer; this warm- 
 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 BatK 
 when I 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 con- 
 tinued 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) 
 
 7* 
 
74 LIFE OF REV JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 com- 
 municated, in confidence, the difficulties under which I 
 labored, respecting niy religious principles. I observed 
 to him, that I could not with a good conscience, repro- 
 bate doctrines, which, as I firmly believed originated 
 with God, nor advocate sentiments diametrically oppo- 
 site to what I -considered as truth. On this account I 
 could not cordially unite with Mr. Wesley, or his preach- 
 ers. 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 pre- 
 serve 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, engaged a place in the coach for 
 me, discharging all the attendant expenses, 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, when the prospect before me was 
 at least uncertain; but Ihave been, all my days, a mys- 
 tery to myself, nor is this mystery yet unravelled. I re- 
 tired this night to bed, but did not close my eyes, until 
 near the dawn of day yet my reflections upon my pil- 
 low were charming; I clearly saw the good hand of God 
 in all my movements; I was enchanted 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 ofFspnng 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 slum- 
 ber; 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 song- 
 sters of the hedges, the lowing tenants of the mead, the 
 
LIFE OF HEV. JOHN MURRAY. 75 
 
 lusty laborer, with his scythe, preparing to out down the 
 bending burden of the flowery meadow. The increas- 
 ing 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 1 had breakfasted, the coach overtook me, 
 in which, I was soon seated, finding a ride, after walk- 
 ing, more abundantly refreshing; we rolled over the finest 
 road in the world, with such rapidity, that we reached Lon- 
 don before sunset. How much was my heart elated^as 1 
 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 kft my 
 trunk without a single line of intimation to whom it be- 
 longed, 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 en- 
 tered a tavern, requesting a supper, and a lodging, botli 
 of which were readily granted; I sat pensive, I was weary 
 my spirits sunk, I ate little, and retiring to my chamber, 
 after securing the door, I fell on my knees, beseeching 
 the Father of mercies to have compassion upon me. 1 
 wept, wished myself at home, and my heart seemed to 
 die within me, at the consideration that I could not re- 
 turn, without fulfilling , the predictions of my matron 
 friend; ' You will return,' said she, and, perhaps find 
 this door simt against you.' Never, said I, never; I will 
 die first. This was the most melancholy night I had 
 passed, since I left the dwelling of my mother.. I arose 
 in the morning unrefreshed, I inquired where the stage 
 put up; had forgotten; I told my host, I 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 be- 
 lieved it safe,, although I knevi nothing of the people. 
 I recollected where I had lived, when with my father in 
 this city; thither 1 repaired; but although there were re- 
 maining individuals who remembered him, no one recog- 
 nised me. I was however kindly noticed, for his sake, 
 and soon introduced to many,, by whom I was much caress- 
 ed.. From this T reaped no benefit; a few of my Metho- 
 dist friends, whom I had known in Ireland, visited me. 
 
7& LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 butj seeing me in company which they did not approve, 
 they stood aloof from me. In the judgment of Mr. Wes- 
 ley, and his adherents, ray principles were against me. 
 They did not believe any man could be pious, who be- 
 lieved 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, Avho had given their suffrage 
 in favor of the doctrine of Election, and I produced my 
 father, as an instance, when, laying his hand upon my 
 shoulder, with great earnestness, he said: ' My dear lad, 
 believe me, thei-e never was a man in this world, who 
 believed the doctrine of Calvin, bu.t the language 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 there- 
 fore, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other; my 
 wish to attach myself to Mr. Whitefield was still para- 
 mount 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 distinguished; but it was 
 by those, whose neglect of me would have been a mercy : 
 by their nominal kindness I was made to taste of plea- 
 sures, 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 knowledge 
 of the town, and its pleasures, should not affect my stand- 
 ing in the religious world. But I was miserably deceiv- 
 ed; gradually, my former habits seemed to fade from my 
 recollection. To my new connexions I gave, and re- 
 ceived from them, what I then believed pleasure, without 
 alloy. Of music, and dancing, I was very fond, and I 
 delighted in convivial parties; Vauxhall, the playhouses, 
 were charming: I had never known life before. It is 
 true my secret Mentor sometimes embittered my enjoy- 
 ments; 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 resolution to retrace my steps; indeed I had lit- 
 tle 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 dissipation would have lasted, had not my re- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 77 
 
 sources failed, I know not. I occasionally encountered 
 one, and another, of my religious connexions, who se- 
 riously 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 I 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 doteing husband, 
 thus cruelly deceived, lost first his reason, and afterwards 
 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, 1 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 a matter 
 of astonishment to me, how, after such a religious edu- 
 cation as I had received; after really, vitally entering in- 
 to the spirit of the life, to which I was from infancy ha- 
 bituated; after feelingly bearing my public testimony 
 against the follies, and the dissipation of the many, I 
 should so entirely renounce a life of serious piety, and 
 embrace a life of frolic, a life of whinj ! 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 deliberately 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 near- 
 ly exhausted: but this was beneath my consideration: 
 and, as I have said, serious reflection was arrested by 
 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 indis- 
 cretion. 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 motionless. The money, which I believed would 
 never be expended, was already gone. I saw no method 
 
78 LIFE OP REV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 of recruiting my finances, and I stood appalled, when, 
 at this distressing moment, a gay companion broke in 
 upon me; he was on his Avay to the Club; there was 
 to be grand doings: John 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 enjo}^ 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 exhibition of all my deviations. 
 Suffice it to say, that I plunged into the vortex of plea- 
 sure, greedily gras])ing at enjoyments, which both my 
 habits and my circumstances should have taught me to 
 shun. Upon this subject I do not love to ciwell^ if 
 possible, I would erase it from my recollection; and 
 yet, I derive abundant satisfaction, from the manifesta- 
 tion 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 1 said, 
 necessity, imperious necessity, compelled me to pause; 
 aiid 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 
 impressive memento. My embarrassments were soon 
 rumored abroad; and although I had many friends, who 
 appeared to regard money as little as myself, who, de- 
 claring they could not exist without me, insisted upon 
 my being of their parties, yet a consciousness of depend- 
 ence 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 favor- 
 ite retreat, Richmond; inclination led me to join them; 
 but they either were not, or I suspected they were not, 
 as usual, warm in their solicitations, and 1 declined a 
 less 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; I gave him my half-penny, and walk- 
 
LIFE or REV JOHN MURRAY. . 79 
 
 cd 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 be- 
 fore me; his paternal advice, his paternal pray«rs flash- 
 ed upon my soul; the eye .of my mind dwelt upon the 
 family I had deserted. Oh! could they now behold mel 
 Would they not' be gratified.'* It hoped they would; their 
 pity would have pained most exquisitely. Still my emo- 
 tions were not of an ameliorating description; my heart was 
 indurated, and, had I possessed the means, I should have 
 proceedlfed in the path of destruction. At length I seemed 
 awakened to a full sense of the horrors of my situation; my 
 heart throbbed with anguish as I spontaneously exclaim- 
 ed: 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 c^ 
 those who heard me? And is it thus my journey 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 consolation 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 aflfect- 
 ed 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 ! but too certain of 
 receiving. A thousand thoughts, like a swarm of in- 
 sects, buzzed around me, but no thought gave me peace. 
 How exquisite was the torture., wJiich at this moment I 
 suffered. But the approach of evening roused me to a 
 conviction of the necessity of moving; but whither should 
 I go? that was the question. ' .Suppose,' said my invi- 
 sible monitor, 'you go to the tabernacle?' and, burst- 
 ing into a flood of tears; I said, Yes, I will present my- 
 self among the multitude — ^yes, I will go; but how shall 
 I meet the eye of any individual, who has formerly 
 
80 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 known me? how dare I stand among the worshipper^5 of 
 that God, whom I have so grossly offended? Yet I will 
 go; and, with slow and mournful steps, I walked for- 
 ward. The congregation 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 usual, energetic manner, addressed his audience; but 
 no sounds of consolation reached me. At last he said: 'But 
 there may be, in some corner of this house a poor, de- 
 sponding, despairing soul, who, having sinned, 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 
 Avandering from the sources of true happiness; and pos- 
 sibly he may apprehend he shall never be permitted to 
 return ! If there be any one of this description present, 
 I have to inform such individual, that God is still his 
 loving Father; that He says, return unto me, my poor, 
 backsliding child, and I will heal your backslidings, and 
 love you freely. What message shall I return my Mas- 
 ter from you, my poor, afflicted, wandering, weeping 
 brother? shall I say, you are suitably penetrated by his 
 gracious invitation, and that you would come with 
 weeping, and supplication; that you would fly with grat- 
 itude, 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 spirit, it thus appeared; and I seemed as if 
 expiring, amid the mingling emotions of regret, apprehen- 
 sion, and hope. 
 
 I left the tabernacle under these potent impressions, 
 and, crossing Moorfields, I was overtaken by one of my 
 old religious connexions, who, regarding me with won- 
 der, said, ' Am I so happy to see you, one of the many 
 who were at the tabernacle this evening ? ' My reply 
 was indicative of the sorrow of my heart. He proceeded 
 to make many remarks, until, in the moment of separa- 
 tion, 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 abundance I said. No, never will I again 
 mingle in circles calculated to efface impressions, which 
 I will cherish to the latest hour of my existence. Let 
 these tears, these fast-falling tears, evince my sincerity. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY.. 81 
 
 My friend rejoiced in the prospect of my returning to the 
 path, from which I had wandered; but he rejoiced with, 
 fear and trembling. He knew my connexions were nu- 
 merous, and that my vivacity rendered me the life of 
 those convivial circles, where I bad so long figured. But 
 the grace of God upheld me,, and never, from that mo- 
 ment, 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 companions, and my religious connexions avoided 
 pie; thus 1 had now 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 re- 
 port, which they believed without foundation. The 
 greater number of those laughter-loving beings, who had 
 attached themselves to me, never having imbibed any 
 religious sentiments, had not learned the habits of my 
 former life. Many individuals called upon me as usual^ 
 and found me a different 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 acknowledg- 
 ments; but assured them, the whole world as a bribe, would 
 be insufficient to lead me again into the paths of folly. I 
 was not, I said, unhappy because I no longer possessed 
 ability to run the career of error, certainly not; my infe- 
 licity originated, from the consideration, that I had ever 
 receded from the paths of peace. Some resented my re- 
 marks 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 well 
 to separate themselves from me, were for a time, induced 
 to reflect seriously upon their own situation: but these, 
 also, shortly disappeared J and, of the numerous triflers,. 
 with 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 lodg- 
 ing, but, on contemplating a removal, difficulties, to which 
 I had not before recurred, stared me in the face. I was 
 considerably in arrears to my host, and, as I must depart 
 
S2 I.IFE OF REV. JOHK MURRAYv 
 
 in a different state of mind, from that which I was iu^ 
 when I l)ecame his lodger, and which had impressed him 
 in my favor; I could not expect he Avould be very kindly 
 disposed toward me. I was indebted to others, and my 
 distresses seemed hourly to accumulate. Both present 
 and future support were alike beyond my reach, and it 
 appeared to me, I had attained the climax of misery. 1 . 
 closed my door, I prostrated myself before the God who. 
 had created me, beseeching him to have mercy upon me j 
 again my sad, my sorrowing heart, revisited the home I 
 had abandoned; stripped of its allurements, my mad pas- 
 sion for travelling appeared in its native deformity;, 
 agonizing dread overtook me, and my terrified imagina- 
 tion pointed out, and anticipated, a thousand horrors. 
 Many devices were suggjested to my forlorn mind, and 
 death itself was presented as my last resort. But starting 
 from an idea so impious^ Let me,, I 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 indi- 
 vidual 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 tabernacle, 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 sin- 
 ner as myself; for, in the face of an education, calculated 
 to eradicate every evil propensity; and of precepts, and 
 examples, drawn from our most holy religion, which 
 ought to have rendered me a uniform servant of the 
 Most High; I hqive mingled 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 conse- 
 quence of my manifold offences. The kind-hearted 
 young man strove to pour into my wounds the oil and 
 wine of consolation. We walked together, quite through 
 Moorfields; at his request, I promised to meet him at the 
 tabernacle the ensuing evening, and I was greatly impa- 
 tient for the appointed time. Passing Moorfields,. agree- 
 ably to my engagements, I beheld a large congregation 
 assembled to hear one of Mr. Wesley's preachersi I tar- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOftN M'URRAY. 89 
 
 ried 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 in- 
 troduced 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 Avhat I 
 was, when I first saw him, with my present situation. 
 I was this evening much affected; indeed, it was impossi- 
 ble for any child of sorrow to attend upon Mr. White- 
 field, without feelings of the most impressive nature. I 
 looked around for my companion of the past evening, 
 but I saw him not; and I was pained by the disappoint- 
 ment. 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 al- 
 ways make our moan,' &-c. which hymn I 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 de- 
 voutly did I bless the Father of my spirit, for sending me 
 such a comforter. I was in haste to unbosom myself to 
 him, to make him acquainted with the extent of my er- 
 rors; but this was a subject, upon which he did not seem 
 in haste to hear me. He, however, urged me to draw 
 consolation from the promises of our God, which he pro- 
 nounced all yea and amen, in the Redeemer: He also ex- 
 pressed 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 
 admittance. My concern for my very reprehensible ab- 
 errations, as they affected my spiritual interests, so com- 
 pletely occupied my mind, that I had little leisure for re- 
 flection upon my pecuniary embarrassments, yet my cir- 
 cumstances were truly deplorable. I was in debt, Avith- 
 out the means of making payment, nor had I any pros- 
 pect of future support. I disdained to ask charity, and 
 the business, of which I had obtained a superficial knowl 
 edge in Ireland, was not encouraged in London. The 
 friend, whom I first saw at the tabernacle, had continued 
 a vigilant observer of my conduct; he had frequently 
 visited me, and my eyes convinced him I was no longer 
 the gay, inconsiderate wanderer, but truly a man of sor- 
 row. Compassionating my sufferings, he invited me to 
 his pleasant home, and, in a voice of friendship, request- 
 ed I would pour into his bosom all my griefs. I did so, 
 and his resolution was instantly taken. To my great con- 
 solation, he engaged to procure me, immediately, another 
 lodging, to make my present landlord easy, and to pro- 
 
84 JLliPE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 cure for me, if I was willing, the means of future sup- 
 port; 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 orig- 
 inated in my soul. Gratitude swelled in my bosom; I 
 ^ experienced all its sweet enthusiasm; and hardly could I 
 control my impatience, for the execution of a plan, in 
 every view so desirable. The lodging was immediately 
 obtained; it was at the house of an old lady, in Bishop- 
 gate's street, where was appropriated solely to my use, 
 a neat, and well furnished apartment. The succeeding 
 morning, this benevolent gentleman attended me to my 
 late lodging, when, inquiring the amount of my debt, I 
 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. Ex- 
 cuse 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 difterent 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 im- 
 pressed 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 exer- 
 tions, and in a way to discharge debts, which wbre a 
 heavy burden upon my mind. I lived frugally, retrenching 
 every superfluity, and uniformly denying myself all, but 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 85 
 
 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 newly revived 
 and ecstatic hope, of being again admitted to my Father's 
 house, from which, I once feared, I was eternally ex- 
 cluded: And I deemed myself happy, beyond expression 
 happy, upon comparing myself with those, among whom 
 I was compelled to live; who were posting, without con- 
 cern, in what I deemed the road to ruin, which I had, by 
 divine favor, been mercifully drawn; my bosom swelled 
 with the most delightful sensations, while I frequently 
 exclaimed. Lord, why me? Why take roe, and leave 
 these poor, unfortunate beings to perish in a state of sin, 
 and misery ? But such was the sovereign will and plea- 
 sure of my God; he would have mercy, on whom he 
 would 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-exam- 
 ination, 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 sor- 
 row. The distress, 1 so evidently suffered, endeared me 
 to my new religious connexions; every one of whom en- 
 deavored to administer qonsolation, encouraging me to 
 cherish hope, from the consideration of my despairl 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 con- 
 sumed 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 prostrated my- 
 self at the footstool of my Maker, I acknowledged w ith 
 gratitude the tender mercies of my Redeemer, who had 
 graciously separated me from those, who were murdering 
 their time, and their precious souls; and my thanksgiv- 
 ings were reiterated to that God, who had mercifully res- 
 cued me from enormities so prodigious. Thus rolled 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 
 
86 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 than usual; attending either at the tabernacle, or at the 
 chapel, in Tottenham-court, at which places the commu- 
 nion was alternately given, every Sunday morning. 
 Great numbers attended upon these occasions, who were 
 not regular tabernacle 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 Sun- 
 day mornings were, indeed, golden opportunities: my 
 doubts were generally removed, and I came home in rap- 
 tures. It was in such a peacefully religious frame of 
 mind as this, that I was passing from the tabernacle, on a 
 line summer's morning, deriving high satisfaction from the 
 consideration, that I loved the brethren-. I know, said I, 
 internally, that I have passed from death unto life, be- 
 cause I love the brethren. It is true, I felt a very strong 
 affection for those, with whom I had communed in the 
 tabernacle; but passing over Moorfields, i saw a crowd 
 of people, collected under the shade of a large tree. I 
 inquired of a passenger, what occasioned the assembling 
 of such a multitude; and I was informed, one of James 
 Relly's preachers was disseminating his damnable doc- 
 trines to the infatuated people ! My soul kindled with in- 
 dignation; and, from the abundance of an heart, over- 
 flowing with religious zeal, 1 could not forbear exclaim- 
 ing: 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 pub- 
 licity to tenets, so pernicious, so destructive } thus, in the 
 name of God, doing the work of the Devil.* At this 
 period, I should have considered myself highly favored, 
 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 destroying him, I should have nothing 
 doubted, that I had rendered essential service, both to 
 the Creator and the created. I did not then know, how 
 
 ^ In this description of his feelings, the author has left on record 
 that which ought to serve as a mild reproof to those who are prone to 
 condemn, unheard, both the doctrine aud advocates of Universalism. 
 It should have the effect to lead all ingenious inquirers to examine, 
 with great care, and much faithfulness, their own hearts, to see ' what 
 manner of spirit they are of j 'and should this be done, it would be 
 ascertained, that opposition to the doctrine of impartial grace, arises 
 not so much from the discovery of any thing bad in the sentiment it- 
 self, as from that pride and haughtiness, which, alas I are quite too 
 prevalent in the world. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 87 
 
 much I was leav )ned with the leaven of the Pharises; 
 ajid that, notwithstanding my assurance of having passed 
 from death mito life, in consequence of loving the breth- 
 ren, 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 intermis- 
 sion of public worship was always appropriated to pri- 
 vate 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 commu- 
 nion table, in the chapel, were more abundantly fatigue- 
 ing., The chapel was some miles from my lodgijigs; but 
 i never absented myself, either summer or winter, and I 
 greatly exulted when I was the lirst, who appeared Avith- 
 in its consecrated walls. The more I suffered in reach- 
 ing this place, the more I enjoyed when there; and often, 
 while passing the streets of London, in the midst 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 for- 
 ever. And why. Oh ! why, I used to repeat, am I snatch- 
 ed, as a brand from the burning; why am I, an offender 
 against light, against precept, and example, made a bless- 
 ed heir of Heaven, while far the greater part of my 
 species are consigned to endless misery.'' There were a 
 number of young people, of both sexes, who, having as- 
 sembled from a great distance, could not return home 
 after service, in season for breakfast.. One of the society 
 kept a house near the chapel, where individuals thus cir- 
 cumstanced were accommodated. There we often col- 
 lected, and our opportunities were delightful.. Being re- 
 markable for a humble demeanor, I was, on this account, 
 much noticed and caressed; and I rarely quitted the as- 
 sembly without a heart overflowing with love, and grati- 
 tude, toward God, and His dear children.. I was not 
 confined to any particular place of worship; I was accus- 
 tomed to present myself, at the stated times, in various 
 congregations; wherever I heard of a great man, I made 
 
 * To the discredit of Christianity, its professors are, as our author 
 was before his conversion, by far too much disposed to confine their 
 love to the few with whom they associate. This spirit of the Pharisee, 
 cannot be too strongly disapprobatedj for it stands direct in opposi- 
 tion to the genius and spirit of that gospel which comprises a full ex- 
 pression of the love of God for all mankind. Ed. 
 8* 
 
8S LIFE OF REV^ JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 a point of attending upon his labors. Among the many 
 places of public 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 service at that place, except in the morning, and eve- 
 ning. In a vestrj^, 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 
 kindness; this affected me exceedingly; and perceiving 
 that it did, they loved me yet more for the value I evi- 
 dently 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 re- 
 ligious societies, and afterwards to their houses. The^ 
 minister distinguished me; solicited me to visit him; and 
 delighted to speak peace to me, both publicly, and private- 
 ly. I was entreated to pray in the society, which, as a 
 timid, and unpatronized stranger, I had so recently 
 entered! I complied, and every one seemed affect- 
 ed; I myself was greatly moved, deeply penetrated 
 by reflection, upon what I had been, and what 1 then was^ 
 and my soul was transported by the consideration, that I 
 was re-admitted into the society of the people of God. 
 My presence was now anxiously expected in the congre- 
 gation, 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 caress- 
 ed, by serious people of sundry persuasions, that when I 
 have been asked, what denomination I was of, I have re- 
 plied, an independent Baptist, Methodist, Churchman. 
 I hardly knew which of those I liked best, or loved most; 
 and Mr. Whitefield, upon whom they all occasionally at- 
 tended, strove, both by precept and example, to convince 
 us, that a difference, respecting non-essentials, was utter- 
 ly inconsistent with the Christian character. 
 
 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 relig- 
 ion, 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY.. 89 
 
 many little indulgencies, whichj while a debtor, I should 
 have believed criminal. 
 
 The leaving my new^ patron gave me, hoM^ever, some 
 pain,; he had a very high opinion of me, although 1 could 
 not reciprocate M* esteem.. He was ambitious of obtain- 
 ing a name in the Church, and, for this purpose, iie con- 
 templated 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 accus- 
 tomed to perform the honors of my table. If you prolong 
 your grace at breakfast, it will answer for morning pray- 
 er!' Greatly shocked, and completely disgusted my de- 
 terminatioii 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 censur- 
 ed, 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, obtained its votaries. 
 Mr. Romasne, M. Jones, and many other clergymen, 
 distinguished me. Hints were thrown out respecting my 
 once more coming forward as a public teacher; but 
 against this I was determined. I was astonished, that I 
 had ever dared to venture upon so responsible an assump- 
 tion ! As the eternal well being of the many was supposed 
 to rest with the preacher, an error in judgment would 
 f.onsequently be fatal to his hearers; and, as I had now 
 learned that Iwas not perfect in knowledge, I could not 
 be assured, I shoujd not lead the people astray; in which 
 tremendous event the)'^ would, to all eternity, be imprecat- 
 ing curses on my head. Considerations of such magni- 
 tude were sufficient to seal my lips; but I was characteic- 
 ized as a pattern of piety, and my experiences were 
 greedily sought, by individuals of various denominations. 
 There was a society, belonging to a Baptist meeting, 
 near Good Man's fields, which met statedly at each other's 
 houses once every week; this was the society, in which I 
 was most admired, and to which, of course, 1 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 surrendered up my whole soul to those 
 religious exercises, which the several societies^ to 
 
90 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 heaven.. Wedded life^ a family, these 
 made no part of my plan; I was persuaded,,! should pass 
 my life in celibacy; and, had monastic seclusion consisted 
 with Protestantism, I should gladly have embraced its 
 retirement, with its duties. In the society, collected near 
 Good Man's fields, there was a young gentleman remark- 
 able 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 un- 
 feigned affection, we loved one another. I questioned 
 him respectmg his connexions, when he informed me, 
 that his parents had died in his infancy; that he had been 
 brought up by his grandfather, 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 de- 
 voted to prayer; Wt that they dared not let their grand- 
 father know they had ever been seen at the tabernacle, 
 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 again 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 Sun- 
 day night came, I was expected, and the great room was 
 filled previous to my arrival. I entered, every one rose 
 at my entrance, 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 at a young lady, extremely beautiful, who 
 appeared attired by the hand of elegance; it was with 
 difficulty I could take my eyes from her ! I was confound- 
 ed, I changed my seat, that I might not behold her, and, 
 when thus addressed by Mr. Neale, I responded by askin«? 
 where his sister was seated,, when he pointed to the 
 
LIFE OF RET. JOHN MURRAY. 91 
 
 fascinating figure, who had so imposingly attracted my 
 attention. 'That young lady, sir, is Miss Neale — my 
 sister; she has long wished for an opportunity of seeing 
 you; I am happy that she is now gratified.' An intro- 
 duction was in course; I had much to say through the 
 evening, and my friend declared I had never spoken bet- 
 ter. 1 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 impatient 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 pos- 
 itive, 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 imagina- 
 tion; when, after an evening lecture, while the congrega- 
 tion 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 intro- 
 duce 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 impos- 
 ing article of intelligence, I experienced the full force; 
 but I endeavored to disguise my emotions; and, the 
 request being once more repeated, I consented, and re- 
 turned home, notwithstanding all my resolutions, trans- 
 ported 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 Christian, 
 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 sensible it had well commenced. Eliza, for that 
 was her fascinating name, arose to take leave; I was 
 
92 LIFE 01-' KEV. JOHX MURRAY. 
 
 greatly chagrined, I had calculated upon attending her 
 home: but a confidential friend had been, sent to take 
 charge of her. 1 ventured, however, to express a hope, 
 that I should see her at Mrs. Allen's, a friend, warmly 
 attached to us both, on the following Wednesday evening. 
 She modestly replied, she would endeavor to be there; 
 and in the interim, 1 sought to learn if she were disen- 
 gaged, but I could obtain no satisfactory information.. 
 The appointed evening was passed most delightfully, at 
 Mrs. Allen's; I had the felicity of attending the young 
 lady home, and the temerity to ask such questions, as 
 extorted an acknowledgment, that she was not engaged. 
 With trembling eagerness, I then ventured to propose 
 myself as a candidate for her favor. * 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 fervor, which youth, and an irre- 
 pressible passion could furnish. Her ansv/er is indelibly 
 engraved upon the tablets of my memory. ' You, and I, 
 sir, profess to believe in an overruling Providence, we 
 have both access to the tlirone of our heavenly Father. 
 Let us, sir, unbosom ourselves 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 fol- 
 lower of Wliitefield was ever allowed to pass. I suppli- 
 cated for permission to write to her, and in the full confi- 
 dence of christian amity, she acceded to the prayer of my 
 petition. From this period, no week passed, during 
 which we did nat exchange letters, ami the pages, we 
 filled, might have been submitted to the most rigid inspec- 
 tion. Mrs. Alten was our confidant, and every letter, 
 which passed between us, was put into thie hiind of this 
 discreet matron, ivithout a seal. At the house of this 
 lady we had frequent interviews, but never without 
 v/itnesses, 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 my 
 Eliza, upon whom rested her whole dependence, never 
 saw ine; 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 
 
LrlFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 93 
 
 application to him, he unhesitatihgly replied : ' I consider, 
 dear sir, rny sister as highly honored by your proposals.* 
 But, sir, have we your consent? ' Undoubtedly, sir, and 
 with my whole heart.' This was sufficient, and I was 
 completely 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 repos- 
 ed unlimited confidence, became my inveterate foe^ and 
 writing an anonymous letter to his grandfather, be repre- 
 sented 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 engagement with a person by the name of Murray ? 
 when, receiving an answer 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 favor, 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 apprehend. The firm, self-collect- 
 ed 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 con- 
 verse with me; promising, that if, upon a personal 
 acquaintance, he continued to disapprove, she would 
 endeavor to bend her mind to an acquiescence with his 
 will. Her grandfather was inexorable; he would admit 
 no conditions; and ultimately assured the young lady, if 
 she did not relinquish every thought of me, she might 
 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 prison- 
 er. Of this unexpected event, I speedily gained intelli- 
 fence, and my soul was torn by apprehension. To Eliza 
 could have no access, and even the intercourse, by letter, 
 was suspended! In this state of agonizing suspense, I 
 remained, until, through the instrumentality of the 
 chambermaid, a letter was brought to Mrs. Allen for me, 
 which letter, while it gave a most affecting detail of her 
 suflferings, 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 
 
94 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Hpon her to give her hand unaccompanied by her heartj; 
 and that, in a few hours, she should be so circumstanced 
 as to prove the sincerity of my affection, for she was 
 speedily to render her final answer to her grandfather.. 
 She hoped for divine support, during the arduous trial,, ta 
 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 inter- 
 view. ' Well, my dear child, said the old gentleman,, 
 '^what am 1 to expect? am I to lose my daughter, the 
 comfort of n)y declining life? Or will you have compas- 
 sion upon my old age, and relinquish this interested, 
 designing man?' '•If, my dear sir 1 had. any reasons 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 sincare affection for me, I have 
 given him reason to hope, and until I am convinced 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, when the dear girl besought him to be calm,^ 
 assuring him it was neither 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 attend- 
 ing upon him, if he would not insist upon her violating 
 hex 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 object, for 
 which he had labored, and to which he had most nefari- 
 ously, and darkly, groped 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 opportu- 
 ity 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 t 
 receive a piece of intelligence productive of so muchi 
 heart-pfelt pleasure, as the certainty of that potent pre- 
 possession, which could thus enable her, whom I esteem- 
 ed the most perfect of human beings, to surrender up, 
 without a sigh, the gifts of fortune. Words cannot de- 
 
lylFE OF REV. JOHN MXrR:RAy-. 9» 
 
 lineate, how greatly I conceived myself enriched, by this 
 blissful assurance. Still I met the brother of Eliza, at 
 the tabernacle, and occasionally at private societies, and 
 still he wore the semblance 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 in that condition when my invidious calum- 
 niator requested me, by a written message, to give him a 
 meeting at the house of his aunt, a lady vv^ho 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 torture of 
 my soul was scarcely to be endured. After a most dis- 
 tressing 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 consent, again see 
 that young lady.' Thus spake, thus acted the man, 
 whom, the very next morning, I met at Mr. Whitefield's 
 communion. Leaving Mr. Neale, I returned to my 
 lodgings, sat down and related to Eliza the whole busi- 
 ness, enclosing 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; request- 
 ing, 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 
 assurance 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 favor of a gentleman, edu- 
 cated by his grandfather, who had long loved my Eliza; 
 but who, fearful of a rejection, had not disclosed his 
 
96 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUHRAY. 
 
 passion. CJommon fame soon wafted to my ear the 
 report of these new pretension sj the gentleman was, in 
 every respect, my superior^ and he was declared a suc- 
 cessful rival. I met the object of my soul's affection at 
 Mrs. Allen'sj I communicated the lacerating intelligence 
 I had received; she smiled, tacitly assured me I had not 
 much to apprehend, and according to custom, added. Let 
 us improve our opportunity in the best possible manner, 
 let us devote it to prayer, and to praise. Thus revolved 
 days, weeks, and months; hoping, and fearing, joying, 
 and sorrowing, while my gentle, my amiable friend, 
 painfully .reciprocated every anxiety. It was supposed, 
 by her connexions, that she had relinquished her purpose 
 in my favor, 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 morning 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 tem- 
 pests arrested my steps; and sometimes I have tarried, 
 until the dawning day compelled me to retire, when I 
 was obliged to pass on, in melancholy solitude, to the 
 tabernacle. Yet, between love and devotion, I was a 
 very happy, very disconsolate 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 
 continued 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, al- 
 though still professing friend, married a lady of some 
 property — ^tw« thousand pounds sterling; his grandfather 
 adding, two thousand more, one of which he had designed 
 as provision for his grand-daughter^ arwl, strange as it 
 may appear, this angel girl uttered not, upon this occasion, 
 a single reproach! The new alliance strengthened the 
 family interest against me; the lady, without knowing 
 me, was my inveterate foe. It was about this time dis- 
 covered, that the attachment of Eliza remained in full 
 force. Her grandfather imagined, that we cherished 
 hope of a change in his sentiments, or that we should 
 ultimately, at least in the event of his death, come into 
 possession of some part of his property; and, that he 
 
LIFE OF llEV. JOHK MURRAY. 97 
 
 might effectually crush every expectation, he so managed, 
 as to put his most valuable possessions out of his ovv^n pow- 
 er. 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 astonishment, recognised, in this young 
 lady, the sister of my friend, the precious object of my 
 most ardent love. Upon that memorable morning 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 h^ so 
 recently flown. The letter furnished an explanation; 
 it was addressed to her grandfather, and it informed him, 
 that the writer would ever acknowledge unreturnable 
 obligations, for the many favors he had conferred upon 
 her; that, if she could have been - indulged with her Avish 
 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 testi- 
 mony 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, whither I attended 
 them, and where, by her positive orders, we were oblig- 
 ed to leave her. Agreeably to her request, we proceeded 
 on our proposed walk, and we learned on our return, 
 that repeated 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 flatter- 
 ing myself, that 1 should immediately exchange my vows 
 with my amiable, my affianced friend, at the altar of our 
 God, 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 
 9* 
 
98 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRA.y. 
 
 parent, for the purpose of throwing herself into the arm» 
 of a husband. She had bid adieu to the paternal roof, 
 because she could not, while there, be allowed the exer- 
 cise of her own judgment j because measures were taking 
 to compel her to marry a man, she could never approve. 
 Her eldest brother, her beloved William, she was confi- 
 dent would patronize, and protect her; and her needle 
 was a resource, from which she could always derive a 
 competency. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Author becomes a happy husband, a happy fa- 
 JfAe^P, He embraces ' the truth as it is in Jesus,' and 
 frd^thi^, 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 se- 
 ries of calamities. 
 
 Hail ! wedded love ! connubial friendship, hail I 
 Based 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. 
 
 After six tedious months, from the morning of my Eliza's 
 departure from the mansion of her grandfather, had com- 
 pleted their tardy round, yielding to my unremitted im- 
 portunities 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 consti- 
 tuted me in my own estimation, the happiest of human 
 beings. As I had no house prepared, I gratefully accept- 
 ed 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 unbroken felicity. The disagree- 
 ment, to which I advert, would not have continued so 
 long, but for the instigations of our brother William, 
 who insisted 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 quar- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 99 
 
 rels 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 surrender my prerogative ! At length, 
 unable to endure such a state of wretchedness, I told 
 William, I would not live another hour in such a situa- 
 tion; 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 
 atate 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, 
 iind throwing her faithful arms around me, sobbed upon 
 my l)osom, with difficulty articulating, ' O! my precious 
 frieiui, you have, as you always will have, the superi- 
 ority. God for ever bless my faithful, my condescend- 
 ing husband.' From this moment we bade adigAi to dis- 
 .sension of every description, successfully cultivating 
 that harmony of disposition 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 
 humanit)^ Yet, although thus satisfied with each other, 
 there were sources of inquietude, which created us some 
 distress. I had heard much of Mr. ilelly; he was a 
 conscientious, and zealous preacher, in the city of Lon- 
 don. 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, tiighly erroneous; and my indig- 
 nation 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 term- 
 ed his blasphemies; but, 1 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 heqrd, while every day augmented 
 the inveterate hatred, which I bore the man, and his 
 adherents. When a worshipping brother, or sister, be- 
 longing to the communion, whifeh I considered as honor- 
 ed 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 
 
100 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 of souls. I recollect one instance in particular, which 
 pierced me to the soul. A young lady, of irreproachable life, 
 remarkable for piety, and highly respected by the taber- 
 nacle congregation and church, of which I was a de- 
 vout member, had been ensnared; to my great astonish- 
 ment, she had been induced to hear, and having heard, 
 she had embraced the pernicious errors of this detesta- 
 ble babbler; she was become a believer, a firm, and un- 
 v/avering believer of universal redemption! Horrible! 
 most horrible ! So high an opinion was entertained of 
 my talents, having myself been a teacher among the 
 Methodists, and such was my standing in Mr. White- 
 field'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 abundantly wor- 
 thy our .most arduous efforts. He, that converteth 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 
 importa^ee, 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, but, as wo 
 heretofore believed, meritorious female. Fully persuad- 
 ed, that I could easily convince her of her errors, I en- 
 tertained no doubt respecting the result of my undertak- 
 ing. 'The young lady received us with much kind- 
 ness and condescension, while, as I glanced my eye 
 upon her fine countenance, beaming 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 sweet- 
 ness, ' 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, she 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.?^ 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUxlRA/. J 01 
 
 No. I do not; a man may believe there was such a per- 
 son, and yet be damned. 
 
 ' Whaf then, sir, must he believe, in order to avoid 
 damnation.^' 
 
 Why he must believe that Jesus Chi-ist 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 ])e]ieve, that Christ Jesus is his complete 
 Saviour; every individual must believe for himself, that 
 Jesus Christ is his complete Saviour. 
 
 * Why, sir, is Jesus Christ the Suviour of any unbeliev- 
 ers'?' 
 
 No, madam. 
 
 ' Why, then, should any unbeliever believe, that Jesus 
 Christ is his Saviour, if he be not his SaviowV 
 
 I say he is not the Saviour of any one, until he be- 
 lieves. 
 
 ' 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 
 SiiYiouY 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 dread- 
 ful fears, which are consequent upon a state of conscious? 
 condemnation.' 
 
 No, madam; you are dreadfully, I trust not fatally, 
 misled. Jesus never was, nor never will: be, the Saviour 
 of any unbeliever. 
 
 * 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 embarr-assed, and most devoutly 
 wished myself out of her habitation; I sighed bitterly, 
 expressed deep commiseration for those souls, who had 
 nothing but head-knowledge 5 drew out my watch, dis- 
 
JCf3 LIIE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 covered it was late; and, recollecting an engagenient, ob- 
 served it was time to take leave.* 
 
 1 was extremely mortified: the j^oung lady observed my 
 confusion, but was too generous to pursue her triumph. 
 I arose to departj tne 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 benig- 
 nity; and when we bade her adieu, she enriched us by her 
 good wishes. 
 
 I suspected that my religious brethren savv' she had the 
 advantage of me; and I felt, that her remarks were in- 
 deed unanswerable. My pride was hurt, and I determin- 
 ed to ascertain the exact sentiments of my associates, re- 
 specting this interview. Poor soul, said 1, she is far gone 
 in error. True, said they; but she is, notwithstanding, a 
 very sensible woman. Ay, ay, thought I, they have as- 
 suredly discovered, that she has proved too mighty for 
 me. Yes, said I, she has a great deal of kead knowledge; 
 but yet she may be a lost, damned souk I hope not, re- 
 turned 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 depreciateil 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 carefully avoided every Universalist, 
 and most cordially did I hale them. My ear was open 
 to the public calunmiator, to the secret whisperer, and I 
 yielded credence to every scandalous report, however, 
 improbable. My informers were f^ood people; I had no 
 doubt of their veracity; and I believed it would be diffi- 
 cult to paint Relly, and his connexions, in colors too 
 black. How severely has the law of retaliation been 
 since exercised in the stabs, which have been aimed at 
 my own reputatioiU Relly was described, as a man black 
 with crimes: an atroci<3us offender, both in principle and 
 practice. He had, it was said, abused and deserted an 
 
 *More than half a century lias elapsed since the conversation 
 here reln:ted took place, and there has been nauch controversy 
 upon the subject; yet it has not come to our knowledge that the 
 opposers of Universalism have discovered any better way of an- 
 swering the inquiry of the young convert than that adopted, at 
 .that time by our author. What is that truth the unbelief of 
 which makes God a liar? It is, that he is the Saviour of all man- 
 kind. Ed. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 103 
 
 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 
 unprincipledjupf every class, flock to his church; his con- 
 gregation 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 propaga- 
 ted, and credited in every religious circle. Denomina- 
 tions, at variance with each other, most cordially agreed in 
 thus thinking, and thus speaking of Relly, of his preach- 
 ing, and of his practice. I confess I felt a strong inclina- 
 tion to see, and hear this monster, once at least; but the 
 risk was dreadful ! I could not gather courage to hazard 
 the steadfastness of my faith; and for many years I per- 
 severed in my resolution, on no consideration to contam- 
 inate my ear by the sound of his voice. At length, how 
 ever, 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 nmch at his im- 
 pudence, in daring to speak in the name of God; and I 
 felt assured, that he was treasuring up unto himself wrath 
 against the day of wrath. I looked upon his deluded au- 
 dience with alternate pity and contempt, and I thanked 
 God, that I was not one of them. I rejoiced, when I es- 
 caped from the house, and, as I passed home, I exclaim- 
 ed, 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 perver- 
 sion of my soul? But I was thus furnished with another 
 proof of my election, in consequence of my not being de- 
 ceived by this detestable deceiver; and, of course, my 
 consolation was great. 
 
 About this time, there was a religious society establish- 
 ed in Cannon-street, in an independent meeting-house, 
 for the purpose of elucidating difficult passages of scrip- 
 ture. This society chose for their president a Mr. Mason, 
 who, although not a clerical gentleman, was neverthe- 
 less, of high standing in the religious world: frequent ap- 
 plications were made to him, in the character of a physi- 
 cian to the sinking, sorrowing, sin-sick soul. His figure 
 was commanding, and well calculated to fill the minds of 
 
104 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 young converts with religious awe. When this company 
 of serious inquh-ers were assembled, the president ad- 
 dressed the throne of grace, in a solemn and appropriate 
 prayer, and the subject for the evening was next pro- 
 posed. Every member of the society was indulged with 
 the privilege of expressing his sentiments, ibr the space 
 of five minutes; 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 members were seated. 
 But, if he approved of what was delivered, it was option- 
 al 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 presi- 
 dent 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 endeavored to express my gratitude, in 
 a manner becoming an occasion so truly flattering. 
 
 ' My object,' said he, 'in seeking to engage you in pri- 
 vate, is to request you would take home with you a pam- 
 phlet I have written against Relly's Union. I 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-destroying book.' 
 
 Although, at this period, 1 had never seen Relly'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 hearty my mouth overflowed with 
 thankfulness. 
 
 ' All that I request of you, said Mr. Mason, ' is to take 
 this manuscript home with you, and keep it till our next 
 meeting. Meet me in this vestry, a little before the usu- 
 al time. Read it, I entreat you, carefully, and favor me 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 105 
 
 with your unbiassed sentiments.' I was elated by the 
 honor done me and I evinced much astonishment at the 
 confidence reposed in me. But he was pleased to ex- 
 press a high opinion of my judgment, abilities, and good- 
 ness of heart, and he begged leave to avail himself of 
 those qualities, with which his fancy had invested me. 
 
 I 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. Rel- 
 ly has 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, infer- 
 red Mr. Relly, it is plain, that God hath given this eter- 
 nal life in the Son to unbelievers, as fully as to believers, 
 else the unbeliever could not, by his unbelief make God a 
 Her. This, said Mr. Mason, punning upon the author^s 
 name, is just as clear, as that this writer is an Irish 
 Bishop. I was grieved to observe, that Mr. Mason could 
 say no more upon a subject so momentous; nor could I 
 forbear allowing more, than I wished to allow, to the 
 reasoning of Mr. Relly. Most devoutly did I lament, 
 that the advantage in argument did not rest with my ad- 
 mired 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 had not given life to unbelievers, they could 
 possibly 7nake God a liar, by believing that he had not. 
 My mind was incessantly exercised, and greatly embar- 
 rassed 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 
 hov/ could the unbeliever make God a liar? The stronger 
 this argument seemed in favor of the grace and love of 
 God, the more distressed and unhappy 1 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 ad- 
 duce proof positive, that the gift of God, which is ever- 
 lasting life, was never given to any but believers. 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 
 
 10 
 
106 LIFE OF REV. JOHK MURRAY. 
 
 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 me, sir, but surely argument, especially upon re- 
 ligious subjects y is preferable to ridicule, to punning upon 
 the name of an author. ' And where, pray, is the objec- 
 tionable paragraph, to which you advert?' I pointed it 
 out; but, on looking in his face, I observed his counte- 
 nance fallen; it was no longer toward me. Mr. Mason 
 questioned my judgment, and never afterward honored me 
 by his attention. However, I still believed Mason right, 
 and Kelly wrong; for if Relly was right, the conclusion 
 was unavoidable, all men must finally be saved. But this 
 was out of the question, utterly impossible; all religious 
 denoDiinations agreed to condemn this heresy, to consid- 
 er it as a damnable doctrine, and what every religious de- 
 nomination united to condemn, must be false.* 
 
 Thus, although I lost the favor 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, mostcordially wished suc- 
 cess to his book, and destruction to the author against 
 whom it was written. 
 
 In this manner, some months rolled over my head, 
 when, accompanying my wife on a visit to her aunt, after 
 the usual ceremonies, I repaired, 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 1 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 informed her, I held Mr.. Kelly's tjnion 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 perturb- 
 ed. 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; 
 *In the state of Mr. Murray's mind at that time, we have a lively 
 representation of what is true of thousands who would pass for sin- 
 cere inquirers after truth. We cannot withhold the following senti- 
 ment : ' Truth is no less true on account of the weakness of its vota- 
 ries ; nor can error be made truth by the approbation of misguided 
 millions.' 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. W7 
 
 such was the conflict in my bosom. However in the 
 full assurance, that the elect were safe; and that, although 
 they took any deadly thing, it should not hurt them, I 
 decided to read the Union; and having thus made up my 
 mind, 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 1 have heard; but I have now an opportunity given 
 me for deliberate investigation. ' But,' returned Mrs. 
 Murray, * are we sufficient of ourselves.?' No, my love, 
 certainly we are not; but God, all gracious, hath said, 
 If any lack wisdom, let them ask of God, who giveth lib- 
 erally and upbraideth 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 assurance of obtaining both. Accord- 
 ingly, we entered our closet, and both of us, for we were 
 both equally interested, prostrated ourselves before 
 God, with piayers and tears, beseeching Him, the God 
 of mercy, to look 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 supplicated Him 
 to lead us into all truth. If the volume before us con- 
 tained 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 
 fervor of devotion, than did my laboring 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, look- 
 ing into the bible for the passages, to which the writer 
 referred. We were astonished and delighted at the beauty 
 of the scriptures, thus exhibited: it seemed, as if every 
 sentence was an apple of gold in a picture of silver; and 
 still, as we proceeded, the wonder was, that so much di- 
 vine truth should be spoken by so heinous a transgressor; 
 and this consideration seemed suggested, as a reason 
 why I should not continue reading. Can any thing good 
 proceed from such a character.? Would not truth have 
 
108 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 been revealed to men, eminent for virtue ? How is it 
 possible discoveries, 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 Savioiur 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 any of those, from 
 whom you have received his character; are better in- 
 formed 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 rational; 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 wonder at myself; 
 I turned to Mr. Mason's book, and I discovered want of 
 candor, 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 wish- 
 ed from my soul, I had never seen the Union; and the 
 next my heart was enlarged, and lifted up by considera- 
 tions, which swelled my bosom to ecstasy. 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 under- 
 standing was pressing on to new attainments, and the 
 prospect brightened before me. I was greatly attached 
 to my minister, 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. Hitchins 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHK MURRAY, 109 
 
 privilege, which few, who read books, can have; as au- 
 thors are generally numbered with the dead, before their 
 labors are submitted to the public eye.' Her consent 
 was 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 false- 
 hood of those reports, which had reached us; no coaches 
 thronged the street, nor surrounded the door of this meet-' 
 ing-house; there was no vestige of grandeur, either 
 within or without. The house had formerly been occu- 
 pied by Quakers; their 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 audience corres- 
 ponded with the house, they did not appear very reli- 
 gious; 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 pre- 
 judices, 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 corrupt; for every tree is known by 
 its fruit; a good tree cannot bring forth corrupt fruit, 
 neither can a colrrupt 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 pow- 
 erfully 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 con- 
 tradiction, that a good tree could not bring forth any 
 corrupt fruit, but there was no man, who lived and sin- 
 ned 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 commandments 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 ])ring forth corrupt fruit; under His shadow 
 the believer reposeth; the fruit of this tree is sweet to his 
 taste; and the matter of his theme constantly is ' Whom 
 
 10* 
 
110 LIFE OF REV. JOHN JIURRAY, 
 
 hxive lin heaven, but thee, and there is none up an earth, 
 that I desire, beside thee.' I was constrained to believe, 
 that I had never, until this moment, heard the Redeem- 
 er preached; and, as I said, I attended with my whole 
 soul. I was humbled, I was confounded; I saw clearly, 
 that I had been all my life expecting good fruit from 
 corrupt trees, grapes on thorns, and Jigs on thistles. I 
 suspected myself; 1 had lost my standing; I was unsettled, 
 perturbed, and wretched. A few individuals, whom I 
 had known at Mr. Whitefield's tabernacle, were among 
 Mr. Kelly's audience, and I heard them say, as they 
 passed out of the aisle of the church, I wonder how the 
 Pharisees 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 f' I never heard trifth, un- 
 adulterated truth, before; so sure as there is a God in 
 heaven, if the scriptures be the word of God, the testi- 
 mony this day delivered, is the truth of God. It is the 
 first consistent sermon I have ever heard. I reached 
 home full of this sermon; took up the Union, read it 
 with new pleasure; attended again and again, upon Mr. 
 Rally, and was more and more astonished. Mr. Hitch- 
 ins returned home, but, as I conceived, very much chang- 
 ed, 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 multiplied contradictions have, until 
 now, passed without our observation.' Well, said I, 
 what are we to do.** Can we, in future bear such in- 
 consistencies, now that we are better informed? Suppose 
 we keep our seats as usual; attending, however, one 
 half of every Sabbath, to the preache)' of Christ Jesus? 
 On this we immediately determined, and, by this expe- 
 dient, we imagined we might be gratified by hearing 
 the truth, without running the risk of losing our repu- 
 tation; for we well knew, that as professed adherents 
 of Mr. Relly, we could no longer preserve that spotless 
 fame loe 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 from 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 elec- 
 
IIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. Ill 
 
 Hon distressed me; unfortunately, I had connected this 
 doctrine of election Vvith the doctrine of Jinal reprobation; 
 not considering, that, although the Jirst was indubitably 
 a scripture doctiine, the last was not to he found in, nor 
 could be supported by revelation:^ I deterniined to call 
 upon, and con\^erse with Mr. Hitchins, on this important 
 subject. I found him in his study, 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 
 «ir, shall I do? 'Why, sir, the doctrines of election, and 
 reprobation, are doctrines we are bound to believe, as 
 articles of our faith; but I can say, with the Rev. Mr. 
 Hervey, I never wish to think of them, except upon my 
 knees. I never heai'd any one undertake to explain them, 
 who did not still further embarrass the subject. One bo- 
 servation is, however, conclusive, and it never fails ef- 
 fectually to silence the Arminian: That if, as they af- 
 firm, Christ died for all men, then assuredly all men must 
 he saved; for no one can he eternally lost, for whom the 
 Redeemer shed his precious blood; such an event is im- 
 possible. Now, as the Arminians will iiot admit a pos- 
 sibility, that all will finally be saved, they are thus 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, Slc; and even Mr. Hitchens had declared, 
 that every one, for whom Christ died irnist finally be 
 saved. This I took home with me to my 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 eveiy exigence, but it 
 became our pleasure, our consolation, and our highest en- 
 joyment. We began to feed upon the truth as it is in 
 Jesus, and every discovery we made filled us with unut- 
 terable transport. I regarded my friends with increasing 
 affection, and I conceived, if I had an opportunity of con- 
 versing icith the whole world, the whole world would he 
 
 * It was quite natural for Mr. Murray, impressed as his mind was 
 with the sentiments of Mr. Whitefield, to embrace the doctrine of 
 Election, as here given. Universalists generally would, perhaps 
 now dissent from his peculiar views of the subject. Our own senti- 
 ments are well expressed in Eph, i. 1 — 10. Ed. 
 
112 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 convinced. It might truly have been said, that we had a 
 taste of heaven below. 
 
 It was soon whimpered in the tabernacle, that I had fre- 
 quently been seen going to, and coming from Relly's 
 meeting! This alarmed many, and one dear friend con- 
 versed with me in private upon the subject, heard what, 
 from the abundance of my heart, my mouth was con- 
 strained 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 con- 
 versed 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 compa- 
 ny, all seemingly in great distress; they sighed very bit- 
 terly, and at last gave me to understand, that they had 
 heard, I had become an attendant upon that monster, 
 Relly, 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 embar- 
 rassed by my question. Still, however, I insisted upon 
 being confronted with my accuser, and they at length 
 consented to summon him; but I was nearly petrified, 
 when I learned it was the identical friend, who had j)ri- 
 vately conversed with me, and who had privately caution- 
 ed me, that had lodged the information against me ' Up- 
 on 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 me, and his confu- 
 sion was too great to -suffer his attendance. It was then 
 referred to me : ' Was it a fact, had I attended upon 
 Relly? ' I had. ^ Did I believe what I heard? ' I an- 
 swered, that I did — and my trial commenced. They 
 could not prove, I had violated those articles, to which I 
 had subscribed. I had, in no point of view, infringed 
 the contract, by which I was bound. But they appre- 
 hended, if I continued to approbate Relly, by my occa- 
 sional attendance on his ministry, my example %yould be- 
 come contagious; except, therefore, I would give them 
 my word, that I would wholly abandon this pernicious 
 practice, they must, however unwillingly, pronounce up- 
 on me the sentence of excommunication. I refused to 
 bind myself by any promise; 1 assured them, I would con- 
 tinue to hear, and to judge for myself; and that I held it 
 my duty, to receive the truth of God wherever it might 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 113 
 
 be manifested. ' But Rally holds the truth in unright- 
 eousness.' 1 have nothing to do with his unrighteous 
 nessj my own conduct is not more reprehensible, than 
 heretofore. They granted this; but the force of exam- 
 ple was frequently irresistible, and, if I were permitted to 
 follow uncensured, my own inclination, others might 
 claim the same indulgence, to the utter perversion of their 
 souls. It was then conceded in my favor, that, if I would 
 confine my sentiments to my own bosom, they would 
 continue me a member of their communion. I refused to 
 accede to this proposal. 1 would not be under an obli- 
 gation to remain silent. I must, so often as opportunity 
 might present, consider myself a$ called upon to advocate 
 truth. The question was then put — Should I be con- 
 sidered a member of the society upon my own terms? 
 \nd it was lost by only three voices. 
 
 It was one in the morning, when I returned home to 
 my poor disconsolate wife, who Avas waiting formej 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 com- 
 municate that consolation, she w s so eminently qualifi- 
 ed 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 worse. 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 for 
 her to visit him at his country seat, ten miles from Lon- 
 don; this was highly gratifying, and abundantly more so, 
 as I also was included in the invitation. 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 fi-reater 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; and I engaged 
 a woman, who, as I believed, answered his description; 
 but, proving an artful hussey, she gradually obtained, 
 
114 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 over the mind of the old gentleman, an astonishing in- 
 fluence, that resulted in a marriage, which effectually pre- 
 vented 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 esteemed my 
 best, and dearest friends, ])roved 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 day of confidence, 
 as tokens of aff*ection, 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 Vv'hen, 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 
 maketh not ashamed; and, even while struggling with 
 difficulties, we enjoyed a heaven upon earth. Gradually 
 I surmounted the greater part of my difficulties. At the 
 house of our brother William, I had an interview with 
 our once obdurate younger brother; he seemed penetrat- 
 ed 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 perhajjs we enjoyed as 
 much, as human nature can enjoy. One dear pledge of 
 love, a son, whom my wife regarded as the image of his 
 father, completed our felicityj 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 to decline. 1 was beyond expression 
 terrified. Physicians recommended the country; but my 
 business confined me in London, and my circumstances 
 would not admit of my renting two houses. I took lodg- 
 ings at a small distance from town, returning myself 
 every day to Lonaon. The disorder advanced with ter- 
 rific strides; my^ soul was tortured; every time I ap- 
 proached her chamber, even the sigh, which proclaimed 
 she still lived, administered a melancholy rebef. This 
 was indeed a time of sorrow and distress, beyond what I 
 had ever before known ; I have been astonished how I 
 
LIFE OF F.EV. JOHN MURRAY. 115 
 
 existed through such scenes. Surely, in every llaie of 
 trouble, God is a very present help. 1 was obliged to re- 
 move the dear creature, during her reduced situation, 
 the house in which I had taken lodgings being sold; but 
 I obtained for her a situation about 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 better, and again -I experienced all the 
 rapture of hope. My difficulties, however, were many; 
 I was necessitated to pass my days in London; coUld 1 
 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 meeting 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 flood. I had my house in town, 
 a servant there; the doctor, the apothecary, the nurse, the 
 lodgings 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 hear- 
 ing 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 do- 
 minion of the woman 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 he had made, was more 
 than ever estranged; and even our elder brother, who in 
 every situation had for a long season 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 his ruin, and he so far resented this freedom, as to 
 abandon all intercourse with me. Among Mr. Relly's 
 acquaintance, I had no intimates, indeed hardly an ac- 
 quaintance; I had suffered so 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 circumstanced, when the fell destroyer of my 
 peace aimed his most deadly shafts at the bosom of a be- 
 ing, far dearer to me than my existence. My credit fail- 
 ing, my wants multiplying, blessed be God, my Eliza was 
 ignorant of the extent of my sufferings; she would have 
 surrendered up her life, even if she had feared death, 
 rather than have perniitted an application to either of her 
 
116 LIFE OF REV. .JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 brothers; yet was I, by the extremity of my distrcsSj pre- 
 cipitated upon a step so humiliating. Stopping at a 
 coti'ee-house near our brother William's, 1 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. Almost instantaneously he en- 
 tered the coffee-house, and, without uttering 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 mat- 
 ter.?' 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 application 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 interview, it would embitter the last 
 moments of her life. He was amazingly shocked, yet, 
 as this was the first syllable he had heard of her indispo- 
 sition, he flattered himself my fears had magnified the 
 danger; but he assured me, he would see her without de- 
 lay. I however desired he would grant me time to pre- 
 pare 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 in- 
 disposed, kindly inquired after you; I think he means to 
 visit you. ' If, my precious friend, you have not de- 
 scended so low, as to ask any favor of 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 strug- 
 gles to conceal her sufferings were but too visible. Quit- 
 ting 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 express- 
 ed 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 con- 
 ceived 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 closer to her, and throwing her feeble, her emaciated 
 arms around my neck she gave me an ardent embrace; I 
 was unutterably affected.' ' Be composed my dear,' said 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 117 
 
 she, * and let these precious moments be as calm as possi- 
 ble; 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 kind- 
 ness you have shown me. Pray be composed; remember 
 v/e are not at home; that we shall shortly meet in our 
 Father's house ' — here she paused — and again resuming 
 — '- Our parting, when compared with eternity, will be 
 i)ut 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 precious 
 husband, who are the object of pity. God all gracious 
 console, and support you. Be of good chee^r, my love, 
 we shall meet in the kingdom of the Redeemer — indeed, 
 indeed we shall.' Again, she threw her dying arms 
 around me; her soul seemed struggling with the magni- 
 tude of her emotions. For me, I could not have articu- 
 lated a syllable 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 uncom- 
 mon energy, she pronounced, upon her almost frenzied 
 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, pro- 
 tector, husband. Oh! 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, 
 t!iie continued: 'These moments, my dear are very pre- 
 cious; we have had many precious moments; you will 
 not go out again, I shall not again lo^ sight of you. 
 You will abide with me, so long as I shall continue' — 
 I could contain no longer: My suppressed agony became 
 audible; she drew me to her: ' Do not distress me, 
 my love.' — She was deeply affected; her cough came on 
 with additional violence. The sound of my voice brought 
 in the kind lady of the house; she believed the angel had 
 escaped. I requested her, to reach the phial. The ex- 
 piring saint motioned it away. ' It is too 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 she was breathless, but she still held m; 
 hand. Ten. thousand worlds, had I possessed them 
 would have given, for permission to have accompanied 
 11 
 
 7i 
 
118 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 her beatified spirit. I am astonished that I retained my 
 reason. Only a few weeks, a few tremendous weeks 
 smce the commencement of her ilhiess, had rolled on 
 when, kneeling in speechless agony by her bedside, I saw 
 her breathe her last; she expired without a sigh, without 
 a pang, and I Avas left to the extreme of wretchedness. 
 A few moments gave me to reflection — I contemplated 
 her form, beautiful 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 consideration of 
 what her brothers would endure, when they found, that, 
 in this world, they should no more behold her. I was 
 shocked at myself; it seemed as if the sainted spirit mildly 
 reproved me; I clasped my hands in agony; I supplicated 
 pardon of the deceased, and of her God. It appeared to 
 me, I had been deficient in- affection, and the idea spoke 
 daggers to my soul. Memory cruelly summoned before 
 me many instances, 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 unutterable 
 were the sorrows of my soul ! ! ! 
 
 I was aroused from this state, by the arrival of our 
 brother William. He obtained entrance; he glanced 
 upon the bed — gazed for a moment — averted his eye, 
 — trembled, and became, pale as the face of my lament- 
 ed 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 sympathy supplicated me 
 to retire. The necessary offices were performed, and all 
 that remained of my wedded friend was prepared for 
 the undertaker, 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 
 anguish 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 coach- 
 man was directed to convey me, after the interment, to 
 the house of our younger brother. He was again a prey 
 to contrition and sorrow, 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 affec- 
 tion, 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. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOIlIi ML':;:iAY. 119 
 
 Here I close another period of my eventful life ! What 
 a sad reverse! A few short weeks since, Iwas in the 
 most enviable circumstances; my situation was charm- 
 ing, my dwelling neat and commodious, my wife, 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 faith- 
 ful to our interest; and tha 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 resort of the wretch- 
 ed, 1 found the semblance of repose; religion taught me 
 to contemplate the state to which I was hastening; my 
 dreams presented 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 visit- 
 ant, commissioned to coiiduct me home; and so much of 
 felicity did I derive from those dreams, that I longed 
 for the hour of repose, that I might reiterate^the vision- 
 ary bliss. 
 
 But new embarrassments awaited me; doctors, apothe- 
 caries, 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 de- 
 parted friend continued, 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 sor- 
 row, 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 el- 
 dest 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 apprised 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 far- 
 
12C LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ther, and entire prostration of my terrestrial happiness, I 
 had suspended my communications. I was now again 
 necessitated to take a house; my mother, and my brothers 
 resided with me; and my sister with a lady, to whom she 
 had been introduced in Ireland. She soon after married, 
 and, as I believed imprudently, and I saw her no more. 
 I now lived a mournful life; the world appeared to me in 
 a very different point of view from what it had formerly 
 done; yet I derived ecstatic pleasure from my views of 
 revelation. William Neale became convinced of the 
 truth, as it is ip, Jesus; and, of course, an adherent of 
 Mr. Relly. This soothed me, and the word of God 
 was an abiding consolation. To a few individuals I was 
 made the messenger of peace; but my mother, and my 
 brother James, remained inveterate opposers of the doc- 
 trines 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 midst of my brethren. 
 It was at the tabernacle I was informed, that a poor, un- 
 happy, 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 suf- 
 fering all the miseries of want, accompanied by her own 
 agonizing reflections. 1 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 nourish- 
 ment for it; another child dead by her side, and a third 
 apparently dying. Upon my entrance she covered her 
 face with her hands. ' I know you, sir; you are come to 
 upbraid me; yes, I deserve it all; but by and by my 
 measure will be full.' I burst into tears. I come to up- 
 braid you? God forbid. No, poor sufferer; I am come 
 a messenger from that God, who giveth liberally and up- 
 braideth 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 mis- 
 tress of which was, to my knowledge, perfectly ac- 
 quainted with the situation of the sufferer. I demanded, 
 why she thus neglected a human being .^ 'Ah, the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 121 
 
 wretched creature, she deserves this and more,' was this 
 good woman^s reply. But although 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 re- 
 putation, I bade her procure coal, a restorative cordial, 
 and a blanket to cover the suiferer. 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 a fellow creature. The lady was ex- 
 tremely 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 ta- 
 bernacle. There happened, on that day, to preach in the 
 tabernacle, a Mr. Edwards, whom I had formerly 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 property and encompassed by 
 the dying and the dead. I attended again the tabernacle 
 in the evening, and when the sermon closed, Mr. Edwards 
 said : ' If the person be here, who put up the note this 
 morning, in behalf of a widow indeed, I should be glad 
 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 pos- 
 sible, to find out the widow indeed, and bestow them upon 
 her. I conveyed this little sum to the sorrowing woman, 
 with feelings, which those who know how to sympathize 
 with the unfortunate will easily understand; and I assur- 
 ed the poor mourner, that the God who gives and forgives, 
 had sent her another proof of his favor. Arise, said I, 
 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 propriety. This instance, among a thou- 
 sand 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 gratitude I confess, that this pure and undefiled 
 religion was, to me, a never-failing source of consola- 
 tion. I was full of the gospel; gladly would I have sa- 
 il* 
 
122 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 crificed 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 ecstasy, 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 awakened 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; every thing beside had lost the 
 power to charm, or even tranquillize, and the tortur- 
 ing sensations I experienced, 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 terrors 
 as my emancipating friend. 
 
 The forbearance of my creditors was at length exhaust- 
 ed. Debts crowded upon me. Demands, which I was 
 utterly unable to answer, were continually made. Had 
 the health of my lovely wife been continued, 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 exigences required. In the midst of 
 my supinjBness, 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 experien- 
 ced, in a similar situation; and I derived, from the 
 expected seclusion, a kind of melancholy pleasure. The 
 officer was astonished at my apathy; I refused sustenance; 
 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 pennyless. 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 gra- 
 ciously vouchsafe to grant me my deliverance from a 
 world, where I could serve neither my God, my neighbor, 
 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 man- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 193 
 
 •ner, asked me how I did! Indifi'erent, sir, I replied. 
 ' By G — , I think bo ! but, sir, give me leave to tell j^ou, 
 I am not indifferent, and if you do not very soon settle 
 with your creditors, I shall take the liberty to lodge you 
 in Newgate. I keep nobody in iny house that does not 
 spend any thing, damn-me. I cannot keep house, and 
 pay rent, ajid 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 r' 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 apolo- 
 gize 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 there never was a gentleman in 
 that house, (and she would be bold to say, there had 
 been a» 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 parlor 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 gentle- 
 man; 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 the entry, a 
 door half way up, with long pikes; every window was 
 barred with iron; escape was impossible j and indeed I 
 had no wish to escape : a kind of mournful insensibility 
 pervaded 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 retired to my prison. This 
 irritated her; she expected I would have tarried 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 contrib- 
 ute to the advantage of the house. But as I made no 
 
124 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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; and having given me a plentiful share of 
 abuse, and appearing much provoked that they could not 
 move me to anger, they were preparing to carry me to 
 Newgate, there to leave me among other poor, desperate 
 debtors; and theiri determination being thus fixed, I was 
 at liberty to continue in my gloomy apartment, and, what 
 I esteemed an especial favor, to remain there uninter- 
 rupted. 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 weU informed,, I could not be alone; there, 
 I knew, my associates would many of them be atrocious 
 offenders, and I was in truth immeasurably distressed. 
 It was now, that every argument, which I had ever read 
 in favor of suicide, was most officiously obtruded upon 
 my mind, and warmly impressed upon my imagination. 
 It was stated, that my Almighty Father could not be 
 angry with me for leaving such a world, in such, circum- 
 stances; the opposition of reason seemed to result from 
 the prejudices of education; ^ 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 exact moment, when I ought to 
 be removed out of time; that He best knew what benefit 
 might accrue to myself, or the cgmm unity, 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 stormy' and I determined to finish 
 my wretched existence before the dawning of another 
 morning. This was indeed a night of horror; but, in the 
 moment of executing my fatal, my God-dishonoring 
 purpose, the image of my Eliza, irradiating the prison 
 walls, seemed to stand before me. She appeared as if 
 
 * The author here alludes to a passage, than which no one is more 
 frequently misquoted, or misapplied. The text from which this is 
 taken is Heb. ix. 27, which ought always to be read in connexion with 
 the three preceding verses, and the one following. Should this be 
 done, it would evidently appear that the apostle was speaking of the 
 death of the high priest ' by blood of others,' and not of the death 
 which is the common lot of all mankind. Compare it with Chap. vii. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN 3IUliRAY. 123 
 
 commissioned by Heaven to soothe my tortured spirit. 
 I prostrated myself before tiie perhaps imaginary vision, 
 and, for the first moment since 1 had occupied this dreary 
 abode, my heart softened, 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 accommodate myself, to whatever sufferings the 
 Almighty might think proper to inflict. I passed the 
 remainder of the night iii endeavoring to fortify my 
 mind; a pleasing melancholy took possession of my spirit. 
 I drew consolation from remembering, the time of suf- 
 fering 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 the 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 keeper 
 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 searched 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 immediately summoning him to my relief. This 
 female turnkey, observing the appearance of my brother, 
 and the feeling manner, in which he addressed me, began 
 to hope, notwithstanding what she had termed my ob- 
 stinacy, that they should reap some benefit from me after 
 all. ' Why,' said William, ' did you not send for me 
 immediately upon your entering this house;' 'Ay, dear 
 sir, so I said: why, dear sir, said I, cannot 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 gentle- 
 man that ever catne into our house: and, though I say it, 
 that should not say it, I believe there is not a house, in 
 our way, in London, 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 
 
126 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 difficulties^ says I; I am sure, I have had my share of 
 troubles and difficulties in this vt^orld, says I; but I had 
 better, says I, have them here, than in a w^orse place; I 
 hope, 1 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 breakfastiid? 'Ay, 
 sir, I am glad to hear you say something of that. The 
 poor gentleman has not seemed to care anything 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 inter- 
 est, 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, gentleman.'" 
 ' 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 communi- 
 cations to him. I frankly told him, that I was so far from 
 being disposed to solicit his aid, that I seriously regretted 
 he had discovered 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. 
 ' Poh, poh,' said he, ' this is idle talk. You cannot 
 believe, you would be the only sufferer from your continu- 
 ing endurance.' 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.' Ye&, 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 discharge my debts; consent to this 
 stipulation, or I touch no breakfast. 'Pshaw, pshaw, 
 how whimsical; but eat your breakfast, man: I promise, 
 I will do neither.' We then breakfasted in peace, and I 
 derived a mournful kind of pleasure, from the assurance, 
 that I should not involve the brother of Eliza in my ruin. 
 But, how great was my astonishment, 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 accompanied this commisserating 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 
 nay suffering mother, who was in agonies on my account; 
 
XIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. l27 
 
 ignorant where I was, or what was my situation, her 
 apprehensions were of the most fearful kind. We ming- 
 led our tears, while she most affectionately endeavored 
 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 broth- 
 ers 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 detested 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 offort for his remunera- 
 tion. Thus I again became a melancholy man of 
 business. It was supposed the road, not only to com- 
 petency, 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 inter- 
 rupted; 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 con- 
 sideration, however, still pressed heavily upon my mind. 
 The very consideraljle 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 remained; it was a mourn- 
 ful 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 pecuni- 
 ary circumstances easy; but this was alL How mysteri- 
 ous 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 
 mercies, they can no more be reiterated: My newly ac- 
 quired competency possessed no charms for me; I derived 
 no satisfaction from anything around me. In fact, I had 
 nothing in prospect, and hope seemed to have expired in 
 my bosom. 
 
128 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER V, 
 
 The bereaved man, quitting his native shores, embarke 
 for America; indulging the fond hope of sequestering him- 
 self in the solitude, for which he sighed. But contrary 
 to his expectations, a series of circumstances 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. 
 
 . Having, as has been described, laid the companion of 
 my youth, the w^ife 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 turned 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 Christian 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 acquaint- 
 ance, that I wished not to form new connexions; that I 
 was sick of the world, and all which it could bestow; that 
 the retirement 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 my 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 consolation. This friend was Mr, 
 Jarnes Relly, the man who had been made 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; I could better bear the 
 pitiless storm, that beat upon me, when strengthened by 
 the example of this son of sorrow; we frequently con- 
 versed upon the things of the kingdom, and Mr. Relly, 
 observing my heart much warmed and enlarged by these 
 subjects, urged me to go forth, and make mention of 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 129 
 
 the loving-kindness of God. No, no, I constantly replied, 
 it is not my design again to step forth in a public charac- 
 ter. I have been a promulgator of falsehood. ' And why 
 not,' he would interrupt, ' a promulgator of truth? Sure- 
 ly you owe this atonement to the God, who hath irrad- 
 iated your understanding by the light of his counte- 
 nance.' But no argument, he made use of, was suf- 
 ficiently 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 nonsense; I was indeed a 
 burden to myself and no advantage to any body else; 
 every place, every thing served to render me more mis- 
 erable, 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. 
 Relly'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 en- 
 joyed, 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 com- 
 municated my desire to visit America to my mother, to 
 my brethren. I was ridiculed for entertaining a project 
 so chimerical. "What, ci oas ihe Atlantic ! For what 
 purpose? 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 acquaint- 
 ance in America, indeed I had no wish to make ac- 
 quaintance; I had nothing in prospect, but a kind of 
 negative happiness; I did not mean to commence a voy- 
 age in pursuit of bliss, but to avoid, if possible, a part of 
 my misery. 
 
 My mind for a considerable time labored with my pur- 
 pose; many difficulties interposed, I would infinitely have 
 prefered entering that narrow house which is appointed 
 for all livingj but this I was not permitted to do; and I con- 
 ceived, to quit England and to retire to America, 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 
 eaiAestly to let them apply to those, who had connexions 
 
iSO LITE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 in America, for letters of introduction, or recommendation' 
 No, by no means, this would most eifectually defeat my 
 purpose; I would rather not go, than go thus. My ob- 
 ject Avas to close my life in solitude, in the most complete 
 retirement and with those views I commenced prepara- 
 tions for my voyage. I visited the brother of my departed 
 wife, and 1 beheld both him, and his children, 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,, was extremely beautiful; it was in the vi- 
 cinity of Londonv I had a fine garden, and a delight- 
 ful 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 wretch- 
 ed; 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 de- 
 parture; every arrangement was made. My, brother,, 
 my widowed mother, I met them, in my parlor; 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; 
 1 know vou have long reflected, and I am astonished to find 
 
 you still deterniiiied. You havo a charxuhig 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 I passionately loved my country, and my few remain- 
 ing friends shared the best aflections 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. 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 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 181 
 
 with your children, with children 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, my 
 son?^ Do not, I entreat of 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 Grave's-End, where I en- 
 tered on board the vessel, that was to convey me to 
 America, which, in my then judgment, was tantamount 
 to quitting the world. 
 
 The vessel, however did not sail immediately; I had 
 an opportunity of going on shore again, and spending 
 some time at Grave's-End. Fond of being alone, I as- 
 cended a lofty eminence, and sat me down under the 
 shade of a wide spreading tree; here I had leisure, and 
 inclination for reflection. On one hand, I beheld the 
 wide ocean, my path to the new world; on the other, the 
 Thames, upon the silvery surface of which, many were 
 passing to London. My mind rapidly run over the vari- 
 ous 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 I 
 was reduced, I was going from a world in 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 stran- 
 ger — all gloomy — truly gloomy. One idea however con- 
 tinued 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 fear- 
 ful I was wrong. Just at this period the wind shifted, the 
 signal was made for sailing; but before I descended the em- 
 inence, 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 
 pleasure I had derived from, listening to the testimony of 
 truth these all rushed upon my recollection, with subduinf 
 
132 LIFE OP REV» JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 power; I prostrated myself upon the ground, with stream- 
 ing eyes exclaiming: Oh, thou dear parent earth, thou 
 much loved native soil, why not open, and give me a 
 quiet resting place in thy bosom. Oh ! thou dear, de- 
 parted friend of my soul, hast thou no power to loose 
 these 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 bedewing the earth 
 with my tears, until it pleased the kind God to s^eak 
 peace to my tortured heart, and I seemed to hear a voice 
 calling unto me, Be of good cheer, your God is with 
 you, He will never leave you, nor forsake you; He is in 
 the wide waste, as in the full city. Be not afraid, when 
 thou passest through the waters 'j I will he with thee, 
 fear no evil; the friend of sinners will he with thee, and 
 make thy way plain before thee; He will cause the desert 
 to hlossom as the rose. The young lions cry, and thy 
 heavenly Father feedeth them. Thou art nearer and 
 dearer to thy heavenly Father, than all the inhahitants of 
 the deep, than all the tenants of the forest. Thus did 
 the spirit of grace and consolation comfort 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 native 
 soil, of my friends, and relatives; after dropping many 
 tears to the memory of each; and, last of all to the ashes 
 of my dear 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 Beachy Head, I beheld the white cliffs of 
 Albion. No language can describe my sensations, as 
 those white cliffs receded from my view, as I took a last 
 look 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 contribut- 
 ing 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 reach- 
 ing my destined port. 
 
 I did not anticipate my fate upon my arrival; I had de- 
 termined upon nothing, and yet I was not distressed; a 
 perfect indifference pervaded my souL I had in my 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. ISB 
 
 trunks many articles of clothing, more than T 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; nnd, upon the 
 whole, I fimcicd 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, oii returning to England from 
 Ireland; neither did I experience those terrifying appre- 
 hensions, for which there was such abundant reason, on 
 advancing to an unknown country, without patron, or 
 friend. Sly mind was calm and unruffled, neither elated 
 by hope, nor depressed by fear I had obtained precisely 
 that situation, for which I had supplicated heaven, when 
 entering upon this untried state of being, humbly depend- 
 ing upon that God, who was in every place the same un- 
 changeing 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 
 moonlight evening, our ship struck on something, which 
 threw us off our seats! What could it be? we were in 
 the centre of the Western ocean. We soon discovered it 
 was a sleeping whale; we also beheld the water-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 coun- 
 try we had left; my heart sighed, as they pursued their 
 course, and I frequently, and audibly exclaimed, 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 
 12* 
 
134 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 he had on board. The captaiu assured him, they had 
 given up the agreement in Philadelphia, but that they 
 zealously adhered to it in New 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 harbor 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 pro- 
 ceed to New York, with all possible despatch. We were 
 a considerable time passing up the Delaware, and, upon 
 a fine day, while we lay at anchor, the merchant pro- 
 posed 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 enchanting appearance, especial- 
 ly 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 uncommon. We went 
 on shore, and ascended a gentle acclivity, when, entering 
 into a small log-house, I was astonished to see a woman 
 preparing 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 beat with grateful affection 
 to the universal 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 mag- 
 nitude, in a country, which I had considered, as a wilder 
 ness. 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 indifference 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 could 
 not do, at least in the circle of his connexions. Pe then 
 proposed my going, by land, to New York. This also I 
 was willing to do, if he would let me know how. He 
 would send and take me a place in 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURKAY. 135 
 
 for New York, to which arrani^einent I agreed. The 
 other passengers left us in Phihidelphia. The water 
 was smooth, and our passage pleasant, until we were, as 
 was supposed, near Sandy-Hook; a dense fog then arose, 
 which was sufficiently thick to prevent our seeing the end 
 of our bowsprit. A sloop 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 break- 
 ers; 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, en- 
 tered 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 lighten- 
 ing his ^ cssel, to give himself the only probable chance 
 of getting off. This was effectuated, 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 ray purse, I went on board the 
 sloop. The plan of the captain was, supposing the 
 morning 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 immediately to follow; the 
 goods were to be replaced; and the sloop dismissed. I 
 v/ent 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 possi- 
 ble despatch 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 mind 
 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, thai I had in 
 
136 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 this wilderness, the lodging place of a poor way-faring 
 man; some cave, some grot, someplace where I might finish 
 w.y days in calm repose. As thus I passed alone, thus 
 contemplating, thus supplicating; I unexpectedly reached 
 a small log-house, and saw a girl cleaning a fresh fish; I 
 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 woods. 
 ' O no, sir, that is a meeting-house.' A meeting-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 offish 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 fish, sir; you are 
 welcome to as many as you please, but I do not sell this 
 article; I do not sell fish, sir, I 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 a tavern, and would be glad, 
 if I could procure them something for supper. ' Well, 
 «ir, I will send my 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 in a tavern.' I gratefully 
 thanked him, and cheerfully accepted his offer. I was 
 astonished" to see so much genuine politeness and urbani- 
 ty, under so rough a form; but my astonishment was 
 greatly increased on my return. His room was prepared, 
 his fire bright, and his heart open. ' Come,' said he, ' my 
 friend, I 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 my own way, I am a poor ignorant man, I neither 
 know how to read, nor write; I was born in these woods, 
 and my father did not think proper to teach me my let- 
 ters. I worked, on these grounds, until I became a man, 
 when I went coasting voyages from hence to New York. 
 I was then desirous of becoming a husband, but, in going 
 
 o New York, I was pressed on board a man of war, and I 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 137 - 
 
 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, 
 called me his new-light man. When we reached Louis- 
 bourg, 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 mc very unhappy, but I recovered my tran- 
 quillity and married her sister. I sat down to work; got 
 forward very fast; constructed 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, unable 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 pro- 
 tected 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 yeai-s, and, illiterate as I 
 was, I used to converse with them, and was fond of ask- 
 ing 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 
 determined to build a house for the worship of God. I 
 had no children, and I knew that I was beholden to Al- 
 mighty 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 neighbors offered their 
 assistance. But no, said I; God has given me enough to 
 do this work, without your 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 
 have 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 
 
13J life of rev. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 house, will send one, who shall deliver unto me his own 
 tnith^ who s^hall speak of Jesus Christ, and his salvation. 
 When the house was finished, I received an application 
 from the Baptists; and I told them, if they could make it 
 appear, that God Aliiiiglity v/as a Baptist, the building 
 should be theirs at once. The Quakers, and Presbyteri- 
 ans, received similar answers. No, sai;l I, as I hrmly 
 believe, that all mankind are equally dear to Almighty 
 God, they shall all be equally welcome to preach in this 
 house, which I Jiave built. My neighbors assured me, I 
 never should see a preacher, v/hose sentiments corres- 
 ponded with my own; but my uniform reply was, that I 
 assuredly should. I engaged, the first year, with a man, 
 who I greatly disliked; vv'e parted, and, for some years 
 we have had no stated minister. 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 ears : 
 There, Potter, in that vessel, cast away on that shore, is 
 the preacher, you have been so long expecting. I heard 
 the voice, and 1 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. Pot- 
 ter's narrative; but yet I had not the smallest idea it 
 could ever be realized. I requested to know, what.he could 
 discern in my appearance, which could lead him to mis- 
 take me for a preacher? ' What,' said he, ' could I dis- 
 cern, when you were in the vessel, that could induce this 
 conclusion.? No, sir, it is not what I saw, or see, but 
 what I/ee/, which produces in my mind a full convic- 
 tion.' 
 
 But, my dear sir, you are deceived, indeed you are 
 deceived; I never shall preach in this place, nor any- 
 where else. 
 
 'Have you never preached.? can you say you have 
 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 Almigh- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 139 
 
 ty has sent you to us for this purpose; I am not deceived, 
 1 am sure I am not deceived.' 
 
 1 was terrified as the man thus went on; and I began 
 to fear that God, who orders all things according to the 
 counsel of his own will, had ordained, that thus it should 
 be, and my heart trembled at the idea. I endeavored, 
 however, to banish my own fears, and to silence the 
 ^varm-hearted man by observing, that I was in the place 
 of a supercargo; 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, until you have de- 
 livered to us, in that meeting-house, a message from God.' 
 
 Still I was resolutely determined never to enter any 
 pidpit, as a preacher; yet, being rendered truly unhap- 
 py, I begged I might be shown to my bed. He requested 
 1 would pray with them, if I had no objection; I asked 
 him, how he could suppose I had any objection to pray- 
 ing? The Quakers, he said, seldom prayed; -^nd there 
 were others, who visited him, who were not in the habit 
 of praying. I never 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 pro- 
 posed to me. I prayed, and my heart was greatly en- 
 larged and softened. When we parted for the night, 
 my kind host solemnly requested, 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 England. I felt, as if the hand of God was in 
 the events, which had brought me 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 fit to indulge my wishes in this re- 
 spect. In thy providence, thou hast brought me into this 
 new world; thou seest how J am oppressed by solicita- 
 tions, to speak unto the people the words of life; thou 
 knowest, that I am not sufficient for these things; thou God 
 of my fathers, thou God of the stranger, look with pity 
 
140 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 upon the poor, lonely wanderer, now before thee. 
 thou, that sittest in the heavens, and rulest in the earth, 
 and who assures! us, that a hair of our head cannot fall, 
 unnoticed by thee; O thou, who kindly directest us, thy 
 poor dependant creatures, to acknowledge thee in all 
 their ways, and to make their requests known unto thee 
 in every time of affliction, behold 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 pre- 
 sence be with me; strengthen me, O Lord, by thy mighty 
 spirit. And if 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 may not by any 
 means be drawn into a snare> Thou art the sinner's 
 friend, thou art the only friend I have. To thee, O thou 
 compassionate Father of my spirit, encouraged by thy 
 gracious promises, I make application. Pity, O pity the 
 destitute stranger; leave me not, I most earnestly entreat 
 thee, to my own direction. 
 
 Thus did I pray, thus did I weep through the greater 
 part of the night; dreading more than death, even sup- 
 posing death an object of dread, the thought of engag- 
 ing, as a public character. On the one hand, I discover- 
 ed, 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 disposed the heart 
 of this man to view me as His messenger, sent for the 
 purpose of declaring the council 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 1 had never met with any indi- 
 vidual 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 141 
 
 families of the earth should, be blessed^ nor did they, as 
 far as I had known, embrace the ministry of reconcilia- 
 tion, committed unto the apostles, namely, that God was 
 in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself, not im- 
 puting unto them their trespasses; nor did they acknowl- 
 edge the restitution of aJl things, testified by all God^s 
 holy prophets ever since the world began. To these doc- 
 trines I supposed clergymen in this, as well as in the 
 country I had left, united in their opposition; and con- 
 vinced that there were no enemies in the world more 
 powerful, than the clergy, I trembled at tiie thought of 
 stemming the full tide of their displeasure. I was per- 
 suaded that people 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 dis6iple of 
 Christ Jesus; if 1 dared to declare the whole truth of 
 God, all manner of evil would be said of me; and, 
 although it might be falsely said, while the inventor of 
 the slander would be conscious of its falsehood, the ma- 
 jority of those who heard would yield it credit, and I 
 should become the victim of their credulity. 
 
 I knew how Mr. Relly had .suifered in England, a'nd 
 the Apostles in Judea; and being a believer in the testimo- 
 ny 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 passed the 
 night, and the ensuing morning witnessed my indisposi- 
 tion both of body and mind. My good friend renewed 
 his solicitations. ' Will you, sir, speak to me, and to 
 my neighbors, of the things which belong to our peace .^' 
 Seeing only thick woods, the tavern across the field ex- 
 cepted, I requested to know what he riicant by neigh- 
 bors.'' ' O sir, we assemble a large congregation, when- 
 ever 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.' 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 re- 
 flections. I could not bring myself to yield to the en- 
 treaties 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 
 13 
 
14^ LIFE OF RKV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 had spoken to the people. Most ardently did I desire to 
 escape the importunities of this good man. The idea 
 of a crowd, making a public exhibition of myself, was,, 
 to my desolate, wo-woni mind, intolerable; and the sus- 
 pense, in which I was held was perfectly agonizing. I 
 could not forbear acknowledging an uncommon coinci- 
 dence of circumstances. 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 
 propensities, it could not be denied, that an over-ruling 
 Power seemed to operate, in an unusual, and remarka- 
 ble manner. I could not forbear looking back upon the 
 mistakes, made during our passage, even to the coming 
 in to this particular inlet, where no vessel, of the size of 
 the brig ' Hand-in-Hand,' had ever before entered; 
 every circumstance contributed to bring me to this houst!. 
 Mr. Potter's address on seeing me; his assurance, that ho 
 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 savor of his name, and of bringing many to 
 the knowledge of the truth; though I would infinitely 
 prefer .death, to entering into a character, which will 
 subject me to what is infinitely worse than death; yet,, 
 as the issues of life and death are not under my direc- 
 tion, 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 considered 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 res- 
 olution give way; the path, pointed out, seemed to 
 brighten upon me: but the next, the difficulties, from 
 within and without, obscured the prospect, and 1 relapsed 
 into a fiirm 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 implore the God, who had sometimes con- 
 descended to indulge individuals with tokens of his ap- 
 probation, graciously to indulge me, upon this important 
 occasion; and that, if it were his will, that I should ob- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MtJRRAY. 14$ 
 
 tain the desire of my soul, by passing through life in a 
 private character. If it were riot 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 determined to take the changing of the wind 
 for an answer; and, had the wind changed, it would 
 have borne on its wings full conviction, because it 
 would have corresponded with my wishes. But the 
 wind changed not, and Saturday morning arrived. ' Well,' 
 said my anxious friend, * now let me give notice to my 
 neighbors.' No, sir, not yet, should the wind change in 
 the middle of the afternoon, I must depart. No tongue 
 «an tell, nor heart conceive, how much I suffered this 
 afternoon; but the evening came on, and it was neces- 
 sary I should determine; and at last, with much fear 
 and trembling, I yielded a reluctant consent. Mr. Pot- 
 ter then immediately despatched his servants, on horse- 
 back, to spread the intelligence far and wide, and they 
 were to continue their information, until ten in the eve- 
 ning. 
 
 I had no rest through the night. What should I say, 
 or how address the people,'* Yet I recollected the admo- 
 nition of our Lord: * Take no thought what you shall 
 say: it shall he given you in that same hour, what you 
 shall say.'' Ay, but this promise was made to his disci- 
 ples. Well, by this, I shall know if I am a disciple. If 
 God, in his providence, is committing to me a dispensa- 
 tion of the gospel. He will furnish me with matter, 
 without my thought or care. If this thing be not of God, 
 He will desert me, and this shall be another sign; on 
 this, 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 seats were constructed with backs, roomy, and even 
 elegant. I said there were no pews; there was one large 
 square pew, just before the pulpit; in this sat the vene- 
 rable 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 of 
 heaven, was ever more completely happy. He looked 
 up to the pulpit with eyes sparkling with pleasure; it ap- 
 peared to him, as the fulfilment of a promise long defer- 
 red; arid he reflected, with abundant consolation, on the 
 strong faith, which he had cherished, while his associates 
 
144 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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, assu- 
 redly.' He reflected 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 will praise thee; ihou hast granted me my de- 
 sire. 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 ground- 
 ed; 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, neighbors, 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 bless- 
 ings 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 sight. But, O my merciful 
 God! 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 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 captain must be in, and 
 
 -<»i 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY 145 
 
 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 Yorkj 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 possi- 
 ble.' 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 importunites, that I 
 would not unnecessarily delay my return. I was greatly 
 affected, reiterating the strongest assurances, 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 reflec- 
 tions, and serious reflections crowded upon me. I was 
 astonished, I was lost in wonder, in love, and praise; I 
 saw, as evidently as I could see any object, visibly 
 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 of 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 public 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 enchant- 
 ing, it was on the margin of the deep, on the side of an 
 extensive bay, which abounded with fish of every descrip- 
 tion, 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, majestic, and 
 filling the devotional mind with a religious awe.' I 
 13* 
 
146 jLIFE of rev. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 reflected, therefore, with augmenting gratitude to my 
 heavenly Father, upon the pressing invitation, he had 
 
 Fut into the heart of his faithful servant to give mej and 
 determined to hasten back to this delightful retreat, 
 where nothing, but the grandeur of simple nature, exhib- 
 ited 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 promulgator of these glad, these vast, yet 
 obnoxious tidings, 1 shall however 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 the 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 VI. 
 
 Becord continued from the September o/1770 to the Winr- 
 ter of 1114. 
 
 ' Armed with the sword of Jesse's youthful son. 
 Engaged with ardor 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. 
 
 Behold me now entering upon a new stage of the 
 journey of life, a professed preacher of the gospel. Of 
 my inability for an undertaking so vast, I retained a con- 
 tinued and depressing sense; but I determined to be as 
 consistent, and as useful, as possible; I would be an as- 
 sistent to my new friend in his agricultural and fishing 
 employments; 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 preaching any where, but in the house. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 147 
 
 which he had built; and thus I should questionless be in- 
 dulged with the retirepientj which had been the prime 
 object of my voyage. Thus consolatory were my reflec- 
 tions 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 cliarge, took my baggage 
 from the brig Hand-in-Hand, and secured a lodging, un- 
 til I could obtain a passage back to the hospitable mansion 
 I had left. But the day had not closed in, before a num- 
 ber of persons visited me, earnestly soliciting me to speak 
 to them of the things of the kingdom ! I was immeasura- 
 bly astonished; totally a stranger in the city, 1 could 
 scarcely believe I was not in a dream. The boatman, 
 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 some- 
 thing new, and from a new preacher, became extremely 
 importunate. I could not deiiy that I had preached; but 
 I gave lli3 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 eli- 
 gible conveyance, if I would consent to give them a dis- 
 course in the Baptist meeting-house; and it became im- 
 possible to resist their persuasions. The house was 
 thronged, and the hearers so well satisfied, as to solicit, 
 most earnestlj'^, my continuance among them. But this I 
 was not disposed to do; this I could not do; my word, 
 my honor was engaged to my first American friend; and, 
 when duty is seconded by inclination, perseverance be- 
 comes 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. 1 made use of the 
 same scriptures, w hich he made use of; and he was not 
 apprized, that I yielded them unqualified 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 
 my testimony, has to this moment continued unbroken. 
 So soon as an opportunity to return presented, I very 
 cheerfully embraced it; and I felt my heart bound with 
 
148 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 N«w York, and all whi^h it could 
 bestow: and 1 longed most earnestly to quit the one, and 
 to return to the other. A number of friends accompa- 
 nied 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 I had found a permanent 
 home; that a final period was at length put to my wander- 
 ings; and after all my apprehensive dread, from being 
 drawn into the public character, nov/, that I had a pros- 
 pect of sustaining this public character, in so private a 
 manner, I was not only reconciled, but tranquillized, and 
 happ3^ I had leisure to retrospect my past life, and I 
 was filled with astonishment when I beheld all the vari- 
 ous 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 now 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 labor- 
 ing in the field, ' Why need you .'* have you not enough 
 to engage your attention, in the business on which you 
 are sent?' Believe me, my friend, my employment in 
 your field, will not interrupt my reflections. I can study 
 better in the field, than in my chamber; it requires but 
 little study to deliver simple, plain, gospel truth; to per- 
 vert this truth, requires a vast deal of wordly wisdom. 
 Let me, my dear sir, do as I please; I have fixed upon a 
 plan, with which you shall be acquainted, when the 
 labors of the day are closed. In the evening, when the 
 cheerful fire blazed upon the hearth, and we were «eated 
 in the well-lighted parlor; ' Come,' said the good man^ 
 * now for your plan.' I think, my dear sir, «aid 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 while persuaded that 
 our common Father has committed a dispensation of the 
 gospel to me, and that a wo 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 149 
 
 of man, and of the situation of preachers, in general, 
 I am, for myself determined not to make a gain of 
 godliness; 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, asking no question, either 
 for the sake of conscience, or appetite; and for my drink, 
 nothing is so salutary for me, as cold water. I am per- 
 suaded, 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, ' nor want that little long.' I reject, then, 
 with my whole soul I reject, the liberal offer, you so re- 
 cently made me, of a fixed stipend. I will have no sala- 
 ry, 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 neighbors; 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 man could no longer suppress his feel- 
 ings. He 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 
 provisions for my household; but God, by separating me 
 from my beloved companion, and my cherub boy, has 
 enabled me to preach the gospel, freely. I never saw 
 any man so delighted, and especially with my determina- 
 tion to continue with him. Dear, kind-hearted man, 
 both he, and I, then believed, that death only could sepa- 
 rate us.* In a place, so remote from the world, I im- 
 
 * 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 philanthropic owner, with a sermon, preached upon 
 the occasion, he may see !)oth in the eleventh Letter, Vol. I. of the 
 * Letters and Sketches of Sermons,' recently published by the now 
 departed preacher. Ed. 
 
150 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 agined 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 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 my Bible, and my God. 
 The letters of my Eliza were a source of mournfully pen- 
 sive consolation, — they were multiplied, — and I had 
 carefully preserved them. Many a time have I shed 
 over them the private, the midnight tear; and reading 
 them thus late, when I have fallen into a sweet slumber, 
 1 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, saddened 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 re- 
 quest, which should bear me from a seclusion, so com- 
 pletely commensurate with my wishes. Alas ! alas ! how 
 little da we know of ourselves, or our destination. So- 
 licitations, earnest solicitations, poured in from the Jer- 
 sies, from Philadelphia, and from NewYork; and it be-, 
 came impossible to withstand their repeated and impos- 
 ing 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 received, by a serious and 
 i*espectable family, who 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 endea- 
 vored 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 151 
 
 my life, experienced a moment'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 continually 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 
 believe that all these 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, be- 
 cause 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 
 1 .27th Psalm. I glanced my eye upon the 3d verse of 
 that Psalm: ' Lo, children are the heritage of the Lord, 
 and the fruit of the womb is his reward.' I did not re- 
 collect this passage; it was the fii'st time it had met my 
 particular observation; 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 
 presenting the sacred passage, I remarked: There, 
 madam, Gj^d 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 there- 
 of, if He has sufficient power to prevent it? Again and 
 again, the fond mother perused the passage; gradually 
 her countenance changed, and the cloud dispersed; a 
 flood of tears burst from her eyes; she brightened up, 
 and, pressing her babe to her maternal bosom, rapturously 
 exclaimed: 'Blessed, blessed God, they are not mine; 
 they are thine, O Almighty Father; and thou wilt not be 
 regardless of thine own? ' I never saw more joy in con- 
 sequence of believing, than I then beheld. Ten years 
 afterwards, 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 un- 
 happy nroment respecting their future state, since my 
 l^edeeirter has been graciously pleased to make known 
 
152 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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, earnest- 
 ly 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 appointed 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 wish- 
 ed to receive an invitation; but I was aware, that the 
 direction of me and my movements were in the hands of 
 infinite wisdom; and promising my benevolent host, that 
 I would return as soon as possible, I departed for New 
 York. My reception surpassed my expectations, and 
 even my 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 
 public worship. It was completely filled in one day, 
 when application was made to me to abide with them 
 continually. 1 urged, my absolute promise given, and 
 my inclination, prompting my return to Good Luck, the 
 name of the place where my friend Potter dwelt. They 
 were astonished at my determination to reside in such a 
 })lacc, when the city of New York was opening its arms 
 to receive me; but, on my repeating the circumstances, 
 attendant upon my arrival there, they seemed disposed 
 to acquiesce, and to acknowledge the good hand of God 
 outstretched for my direction. The Baptist meeting- 
 house was again open to me, and the congregations were 
 very large; my friends multiplied 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 provi- 
 dential residence; numbers of warm-hearted friends 
 accompanying me, as before, even to the vessel's side, 
 \yhere 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. The 
 family of Col. Drake, and many others now 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 153 
 
 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 license from 
 their association. Of course, I declined his friendly of- 
 fers; for I well knew, when he discovered I really believ- 
 ed 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 however, 
 to visit him, which I did, accompanied by my patron, 
 who, to his great mortification, was necessitated to leave 
 me there. In this gentleman's pulpit I preached; I 
 lodged in his house; and received from him 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 
 truth, as it is in Jesus; among the rest was a justice 
 Pangbrun, a venerable old gentleman, who had for many 
 years been considered by his brethren, as an oracle. 
 This gentleman heard me, and discovered, that my testi- 
 mony was not in unison with the teaching, to which he 
 had listened. He became sedulously intent upon detec- 
 ting my errors, and he soon discovered I was wrong, and 
 as soon, kindly endeavored 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 able and zealous 
 advocate for the truth, preached by Abraham. It was 
 now noised abroad, that I was nn erroneous teacher. 
 The clergyman, who was so warmly attached to me, 
 while he believed me a Calvinistic Baptist, now com- 
 menced 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 
 14 
 
154 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 consequent friendship, are not generally so operative 
 upon the human mind, as rancor and enmity: my ex- 
 perience is in unison with this observation. 1 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 invitations, and I 
 \^'as induced to visit a few warm-hearted individuals, in 
 the neighborhood of my implacable foe. Upon my 
 arrival there, I discovered a want, of which I had not 
 until then been conscious : I wanted a horse. A single 
 hint was sufficient; a horse was immediately procured, 
 and, so ardent was the affection of my adherents, that I 
 could not express a wish, which they were not eager to 
 gratify; but my wishes were very much bounded, and my 
 wants few and simple. 
 
 Ah invitation from Philadelphia being frequently and 
 earnestly repeated, 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 usy the hope of glory. ^ 
 I ventured to ask. Pray, sir, what do you understand by 
 Christ, in us, the hope of glory 7 '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 angels 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 ? 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 155 
 
 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 he in us the hope of glory?' Why, sir, the 
 Christian has no other hope of glory, than Jesus Christ, 
 entered within the vail; and this Saviour is, in his heart, 
 the object of his trust confidence, 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 would be as proper to say, your conju- 
 gal 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 show- 
 eth them 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 your justification; and it is therefore most unworthy 
 to be held in reverence. This conversation, as may be 
 supposed, made this gentleman exceeding angry; and I 
 was not a little surprised to hear him, although he imme- 
 diately broke up the conference, insisted 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 Baptist meeting-house, and 
 numbers flocked to hear. I came, I entered the parlor 
 of the reverend 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 parlor. 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 received, redoubled thei^ 
 caresses. There was at this time a small company whb 
 assembled at a place, known by the name of Bachelor'i^ 
 
156 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 con- 
 sented. 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 was 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 return 
 of every Saturday, to preach. I asked him, how many 
 his congregation contained^ * About an hundred.' How 
 many of this hundred do you suppose' are elected to ever- 
 lasting life? 'I cannot tell.' Do you believe fifty are 
 elected.'' ' Oh no, nor twenty.' Ten perhaps? ' There 
 may be ten.' Do you think the nonrelect can take any 
 step to extricate themselves from the tremendous situa- 
 tion, in which the decrees of Heaven have placed them ? 
 ' Oh 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 ser- 
 mon they hear will sink them deeper and deeper in dam- 
 nation.' And so, then, you walk nine miles every Satur- 
 day to sink ninety persons out of a hundred deeper and 
 deeper in never-ending misery ! 
 
 Reports, injurious to my peace, were now very gener- 
 ally circulated; and although I expected all manner of 
 evil would be said of me falsely, for his sake, whose ser- 
 vant I was, yet did the shafts of slander possess a deadly 
 power, by which I was sorely wounded. Had the poi- 
 soned weapon been aimed by characters, wicked in the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 157 
 
 common acceptation of the word, it would have fallen 
 harmless; nay the fire of their indignation would have 
 acted as a purifier of my name; but reports, originating 
 ft'om 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 re- 
 ception was 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. Invi- 
 tations 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 receive 
 good, and evil treatment. The clergy and their connex- 
 ions were generally inveterate enemies; while those, who 
 had will and power to act for themselves, and chanced to 
 be favorably impressed, were very warm in their attach 
 ments. Thus my friends were very cordial, and my 
 enemies very malignant; and, as my enemies were gen- 
 erally 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 family. 
 The Rev. Mr. Dunham was of the Seventh-day persua- 
 sion; amanof r€ial integrity, who, although he could not 
 see, as I saw, threw open the doors of his meeting- 
 house; conducted me into his pulpit; and discharged 
 toward me, in every particular, the duty of a Christian. 
 His neighbv>r, a clergyman, who was a First-day Baptist, 
 exhibited a con.plete contrast to Mr. Dunham. He in- 
 vited me, it 1^ true, to his house; asked me to lodge 
 there; we conve.ved together, prayed together, he ap- 
 peared very kind, a^^d much pleased, and I believed him 
 my confirmed friena until, leaving Brunswick, I .called 
 upon some, whose den.^rtment 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. This affected me beyond expression, a stran- 
 ger 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 habi- 
 tations forever; invidious remarks were made upon my 
 silence; but of these I was careless; 6n other occasions 
 I might have been affected, but treachery from a man, 
 14* 
 
158 X.IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 who had entertained me so hospitably, and who stood so 
 high in the ranks of piety, shocked me beyond the 
 power of utterence. Upon the afternoon of this day, on 
 which I had been so deeply hurt, I was engaged to de- 
 liver my peaceful message in the pulpit of Mr. Dun- 
 ham, in the vicinity of this perfidious man. Some time 
 had elapsed since I had seen him, and I then met him 
 upon the road; he advanced toward me with an extended 
 hand, and a countenance expressive of Christian affec- 
 tion: 'You are a great stranger, sir.' Yes, sir, lama 
 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, notwithstanding the slanders 
 of the adversary, and his agents. He saw he was de- 
 tected, and he determined immediately to drop the mask. 
 ' Well, I will do all in my power to obstruct your pro- 
 gress in every place.' Had you, sir, made this declara- 
 tion at an earlier period, I should at least have believed 
 you an honest man. But to pass yourself upon me as 
 my friend, while you were aiming at me a vital stab ! 
 Oh sir, I am astonished at you. ' And I am more astonish- 
 ed at you; do you not tremble, when you think 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 informa- 
 tion, that all God's ministers hate me; a minister of God 
 is incapable of hating any human being. ' But are you 
 not confounded, when you consider, that you must be 
 right, and we wrong; or you wrong, and all God's min- 
 isters right? Surely, it is more probable we should be 
 all right, and you wrong, than you right and we all 
 wrong.' I have no apprehensions upon this head; some 
 one might 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 alone 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 minis- 
 ters of God, all the rulers of the people, 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 astonished at your daring 
 blasphemy, in comparing yourself either to Elijah, or 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 159 
 
 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 member 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 receive, 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 inistaken — ^you may be deceived.' If 1 am de- 
 ceived, I am deceived; but I will venture. ' You know 
 this is not 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 believer; and, as 1 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 never deceive me 
 again; but as I am not naturally 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; audit 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. 
 
 But now again, my heart failed me—again I sickened 
 at the prospiect before me, and my whole soul, revoking 
 from a continuance in public life, I once more fled to my 
 beloved, my sequestered home, I sighed ardently for 
 my eniancipation. Of that God, who was, in Christ; re- 
 conciling the world unto himself, I entertained not the 
 smallest dread. But my coward spirit trembled before a 
 combination of religious characters, headed by the clergy 
 and armed for my destruction. Their zeal was mani- 
 fested by their industriously propagating a variety of evil 
 reports. I would detail them were they not so numer- 
 ous. And, although all manner of evil had not yet 
 
160 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 been said of me, enough was said to implant 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 embo- 
 eom 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 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 1 
 had encountered in the old. These agonizing anticipa- 
 tions prostrated me before the throne of the Almighty, 
 imploring his protection; and from this high communi- 
 cation with my Father God, my griefs have been assuag- 
 ed and my wounded spirit healed. Urged by a strong 
 sense of duty, I again visited Upper Freehold, to which 
 place I had been repeatedly summoned. My acquaint-^ 
 ance there was large and respectable, but it was the resi- 
 dence of a high-priiest, Avho treated me roughly. 1 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 seated, 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 
 so strange a doctrine, had drawn them together. I was 
 however, afterwards assured, that the plan had been 
 previously concerted. Mr. Tennant entered. 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 commenc- 
 ed his studied operations. ^I want to know, sir, by 
 what authority you presume to preach in this place? 'Pray^ 
 sir, by what authority do you thus presume to question 
 me?, ' I am, sir, placed here, by Almighty 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 responsibility is propor- 
 tioned 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 
 
LIFJC OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 161 
 
 binds up some sheaves, making no demand upon the 
 proprietor of the grounds. I have never attempted to 
 scatter your sheep, I have not even plucked a Jock of 
 their wool. 1 do not wish to govern, I only aim at being a 
 help. *I do not like you a bit the better for all thb 
 stuff. I insist on knowing, whether you came in at th% 
 door?' I wish to know, sir, what door you mean? 'I 
 mean the door of the church j 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 either 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 saved.' 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 entered 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 nothing to do with this; 
 I wish to know, whether you have church authority for 
 preaching? that is, whether you came properly in at the 
 door?' Sir, I have the same authority for preaching 
 which the apostle 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 agree about the church and the 
 door, blessed be God ! we can agree in one fundamen- 
 tal 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 start- 
 ed from his seat, and, running round the apartment, 
 exclaimed, in a loud and thundering voi«e, to those who 
 
16$J LIFE OF REV. JOHN MITRRAY. 
 
 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 fiiee, and asked: Pray; sir, what lan- 
 g»ngQ do you make use of ? Is it possible, that you, a 
 clergyman, highly distinguished, the head of the Pres- 
 bytery, and now in the evening of life, should be so lit- 
 tle acquainted wkh the scriptures, as to call the language 
 of revelation, gibberish? ' You know nothing about rev- 
 elation; their never was 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 good- 
 ness to own it, before I quit this apartment. ' Let me 
 tell you young man you have the greatest stock of assur- 
 ance, I have ever met with in any young person. I 
 tell you again, there never was an individual of the hu- 
 man race, who left this world without faith and repent- 
 ance, v^rho ever had any interest in Christ, or ever tasted 
 happiness.' Not one.'^ 'No sir, not one.' Oh! sir, I 
 am very sorry you compel me to make you to retract this 
 affirmation. Turning to the company, he required them 
 to say, whether they did not think my insolence surpass- 
 ed 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 Calvinist denies, that some infants are in- 
 terested 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 
 therefore, sir, I took the liberty to say, you did not believe 
 what you advanced. ' But I believe it with respect to all 
 besides infants'. No, sir, pardon me, you do not. Again 
 he was exceeding angry, until I mentioned idiots. ' I 
 did not think of idiots.' I believe, you did not; but, my 
 good sir, would it not be as well, if you were always to 
 think, before you speak? ' Again I say, I am astonish- 
 ed at your impudence; I could not have believed a young 
 man, like you, could have had so much impudence.' I dare 
 say, sir, you are disappointed; you expected to have 
 met a timid, poor, destitute stranger, who would have 
 been confounded by noise, and such cogent arguments, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 16S 
 
 as gibberish, gibberish, repeatedly vociferated; you ex- 
 pected, 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 vexiiag 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 1 reaped advantage from this new trial. Re- 
 turning to my lodgings, I experienced the most painful sen- 
 sations, but the rebuff, I had received, operated as usual, 
 it drew me nearer to my God, and, pouring out my heart 
 ill secret before the Father of my spirit, I obtained what 
 the favor of the clergy could never give — consolation and 
 peace in believing. 
 
 My conduct at this breakfasting conference was repre- 
 sented in such a point of view, as increased the number 
 of my friends; and clerical gentleman, in this place and 
 lis environs, forbore direct attacks; but the tongue of the 
 private slanderer was busily employed. A gentleman of 
 
 C , the Rev, Mr. S , repeatedly attended my 
 
 public labors; addressed me after preaching, continued 
 some time in 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 satisfac- 
 tion; we were alone, and we passed many hours most 
 
 pleasantly. Mr. S • seemed solicitous, that I should 
 
 view him, neither as a sceptic, nor a caviller, but simply 
 an enquirer after truth. He asked me many questions, 
 which I answered as clearly as I was able; and he ap- 
 peared sometimes dissatisfied, sometimes silenced. Upon 
 the whole, his deportment was gentlemanly, and I could 
 not forbear regarding him, as a sensible illumined Chris- 
 tian. 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 apparent devotion, supplicated the blessing of 
 Heaven upon me. On recurring 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 ray God! Yet no 
 
 sooner was I out of view, than this same Mr. S 
 
 ordered his horse, and posting to every respectable fa- 
 mily in his parish, informed them, that, with all my 
 eunnins;^ he had outwitted me; that he had asked me 
 to dine, and, by Jtattery and carresses, had thrown me 
 
164 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 off my guard, and obtained a complete knowledge of my 
 principles. Well, dear sir, and what are his principles ?' 
 O ! truly shocking ! horrid ! most horrid ! I dare not re- 
 late them, you shall not be contaminated by the recital j 
 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. C alumnies of 
 various descriptions were disseminated; rancor 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, 1 passed on : succeeding weeks and months 
 rolled away, while my days were appropriated to my 
 beloved home, to different parts of the Jersies, Philadel- 
 phia, New York, and many of the intervening towns, 
 scattered between those cities. 
 
 In the commencement of the Autumn of 1773, I was 
 strongly induced 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 mornings 
 and evenings, of even the first autumnal month, gave me 
 to experience the want of an outside garment. I was, 
 however, determined not to solicit human aid; this I be- 
 lieved, 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 cal- 
 culate, that this want would be supplied, until I reach- 
 ed 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 Bruns- 
 wick, a person entered the parlor, displayed a number 
 of patterns, requested I would make a choice for a 
 great-coat; 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 morn- 
 ing, the coat was brought home; I was deeply affected, 
 and laying my hand upon it, I said: Henceforward thou 
 shalt be my monitor; whenever I feel my heart despond- 
 ing, in silent, but persuasive language, thou shalt say: 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MITRRAY, 165 
 
 * 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 the immediate hand 
 of paternal Deity, who thus vouchsafed to own and bless 
 my mission. On my arrival in New York, I learned, 
 to my great astonishment, that the friend, on whom my 
 hopes of a winter garment 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 losses have I sustained, 
 since I became a promulgator of the truth as it is in 
 Jesus, 
 
 Leaving New York, I postponed my journey to New- 
 port, 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 splen- 
 didly 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 New York 
 in a most wretched situation. I immediately conceived 
 a hope, that, if I could obtain an interview 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, retrieve the past. Alas I 
 alas ! I did not calculate, that I was thus making provi- 
 sion for the most serious calamity, which, during my 
 sojourn in this new world, had until 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 be- 
 longed, 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 sighed 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 
 husband, come to reclaim my wretched wanderer. Un- 
 der this impression, he hastened home, and effectually 
 15 
 
166 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 secreted her, before we reached the door. I was disap- 
 pointed, but I informed a poor creature in the house, 
 that I would call, upon the ensuing day, at one o'clock,. 
 v,'hen I hoped I might obtain an interview. I was, the 
 next day, punctual to the appointment; but, instead of 
 the misguided woman, I received a letter, directed to Mr. 
 Trinbath, entreating most earnestly, that I would not at- 
 tempt 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, miserable children, they would all perish together, 
 for she would, rather than meet my eye, suffer a thousand 
 deaths. I was beyond measure shocked at this letter;. I 
 saw the absolute 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 sup- 
 posed. 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 and forgive her, (and every body says, that if 
 you did not intend to do so, you would never have sought 
 her,) she will again be a very good woman. I was pro- 
 voked beyond endurance; but every appearance of irrita 
 tion was imputed to my disappointment, and consequent 
 resentment. My soul was harrowed up by agonizing 
 distress; unable to convince the old Avoman, I returned 
 to my lodgings. My friends perceived the anguish of my 
 spirits, 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 circum- 
 stantially 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 
 appeared relieved, and proposed my writing to her, and 
 leaving it 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 accom- 
 pany me? 'Most gladly.*^ I wrote immediately, labor- 
 ing 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 meet- 
 ing, for a single moment, she would acknowledge she 
 had nothing to fear from me. This letter was ineffectual j 
 
triFE OP REV. JOHN MURIlAr. . J,67 
 
 she was positive it was all a deception, and that, with, a 
 view of deceiving her, I had employed some other pen. 
 
 This story was a sweet morsel to my religious foes. , It 
 was painted in the most odious colors, and industriously 
 exhibited. They declared, the woman was unquestiona- 
 bly my wife; and that, on account of the treatment she 
 had received from her barbarous husband, she had pre- 
 ferred putting herself under the protection of a common 
 soldier; that she had attended church, upon a lecture 
 evening, and upon seeing me, her husband, in the pulpit, 
 she had shrieked aloud, and fainted. This, and a thou- 
 sand 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 pi'oduce her; she approached with 
 dread apprehension; a large company was collected, 
 spectators of the scene. She caught a glance, and ex- 
 claiming, in a tremulous accent, It is, it is he — imme- 
 diately fainted. Curiosity, and humanity, combined to 
 recover her; she was led into the parlor ^ 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 ac- 
 knowledgments were repeated and copious; she did not 
 recollect, ever to have seen me before. I was most hap- 
 py in the result of this untoward business, which had 
 nearly annihilated my anxiety respecting her . restoration 
 to her connexions. Indeed I was assured, no entreaties 
 would procure her return to Cork. So many had wit- 
 nessed an ecclaircisement, so honorable 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, hoAv 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 de- 
 livered from the distracted situation, in which I was in- 
 volved; and the more I contemplated the indignation, and 
 Eower of the clergy, the more frequently I exclaimed, 
 doubtless I shall one day perish by the hand of my ene- 
 my. Yet, in the darkest night of my affliction, my gra- 
 cious God frequently vouchsafed to grant me peace and 
 
168 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAT. 
 
 joy in believing that His almighty power was sufficient 
 for me; and, in the pulpit, whatever was my previous 
 situation, either mental, or coporeai, when engaged in 
 the investigation 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 not be obtained, a private 
 house, a court-house, a wood, answered the purpose; and 
 t rejoiced, while contemplating the irradiations of divine 
 truth, bursting through the dark clouds of prejudice, and 
 with such imposing splendor, and could only be effectu- 
 ated by Omnipotent power. 
 
 I received frequent and most pressing invitations to 
 visit New-England. During my residence in New York, 
 I became known to many 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 despatch. I had, however, promised to stop 
 at a friend's house, in Milford, and at another's, in Guil- 
 ford; at which places I preached to very large congrega- 
 tions; several strangers, having seen me elsewhere, 
 recognized me, and entreated me to accompany them to 
 their respective homes; but my object was Newport. 
 Many individuals, from Norwich, departed from Guilford 
 with me; they gave me to understand, that, having made 
 part of my audience, on the preceding evening, they 
 were extremely desirous I should proceed with them to 
 Norwich. We passed the day very agreeably together, 
 conversing with great freedom. About sunset, we reach- 
 ed 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 hos- 
 pitable dwelling. He soon became, and ever after con- 
 tinued, my steadfast friend. Many, in Norwich, received 
 me with great kindness; a house of worship was provid- 
 ed; but it not being sufficiently spacious, the doors of the 
 great meeting-house were thrown open, and never after- 
 wards shut against me. Thus, in this instance, the zeal 
 of the people has been sufficiently imposing, to prevail 
 against ministerial opposition. The Friends I obtained, 
 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 affection- 
 ate attachment to its feeble advocate. At Norwich, I 
 was solicited to preach in the meeting-house of Mr. Hart, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. f^^^ 
 
 of Preston; to which place many of my new friends 
 accompanied me. Having passed the night at Preston, 
 on the succeeding morning, 1 recommenced ray journey, 
 
 with the Rev. Mr. H ,* of Newport. The ilistance 
 
 was between 30 and 40 miles; but as Mr. H , was 
 
 going Jiome, he would not stop to dine on the road. In 
 
 the course of the day, Mr. H thus questioned me; 
 
 'Well, sir, I suppose you will preach in Newport.'" 
 Very likely, sir. ' You have friends there, T 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 .'* ' 
 I have laid no plans, sir. ' I promise you, you shall not 
 preach in my meeting.' I should be very much surpris- 
 ed, if 1 did, sir. ' And I suppose, you think you are 
 called of God, to go to Newport?' I think it is not un- 
 likely, sir. ' I believe, you will find yourself mistaken.' 
 It is possible. ' Suppose you should find no place to 
 preach in, wiiat 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 of 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, noj* known by any one; 
 yet I expect, before I leave the place, to have many 
 friends. 'Ay, these are 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 he faith or fancy? ' 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 confidence. ' 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 ob- 
 servation brought to my mind, what on a certain occasion, 
 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 ar^ 
 thy people. However, Moses was not settled on your 
 
 * Nearly the whole of this conversation was published in the first 
 volume. Letter Fourth, of ' Letters, and Sketches of Sermons.' In- 
 stead of the letter A. the letter H ..., which was the original a.nd true 
 initial, is now substituted. 
 
 13* 
 
170 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 plan. , ' Well, sir, I look upon my people to be God's 
 people.' Sfou are perfectly right, sir, so indeed they are: 
 and if I speak to them at all, I shall speak to them, in 
 that character. ' Well, sir, as you call yourself a preach- 
 er 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 being able to give you a direct answer. The gospel, 
 sir, is a solemn declaration, given upon the oath of Je- 
 hovah, that, in the Seed of Abraham, all the nations 
 should be blessed. * Is that all you know of gospel? 
 Would it not, my good sir, require a very long time to 
 inform mankind, who, and what, that Seed is; how, and 
 in what manner all the nations of the earth are, and shall 
 be blessed therein^ and w^hat blessings they are blessed 
 with, in Christ Jesus? The apostle Paul, although he 
 labored 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 they 
 shall be blessed with, in Him, sufficient to 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 acquainted with the meaning of the 
 term, gospel. Tell me then, sir, if you please, what is 
 gospel? ' Why, sir, this is gospel : He, that believeth, 
 shall be saved, and he, that believeth not shall be 
 damned.' Indeed, sir, I had thought, the literal, simple 
 meaning of the term gospel was, glad tidings. Which 
 part of the passage you have cited, is gospel, that which 
 announces salvation, or that which announces damnation? 
 'Well then, if you please this is gospel: He that believ- 
 eth 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, I 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 ludi- 
 crous; 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 \X 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 that sinners may be saved? ' By believing, I 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURJIAY. 171 
 
 tell you.' But the devils believe; will their believing save 
 them? ' No, sir.' Suppose I believe, that Jesus Christ 
 made it possible to save sinnersj 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 believ- 
 ing,' 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 believingy was thnt 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 
 every man should be made alive in Christ Jesus, &c. &c., 
 the inference was unavoidable, nor man, nor devil could un- 
 do, what God had done; the power exists not, "which can 
 set aside the decrees of God. If the Redeemer did not 
 taste death for all; if He has not purchased all; then 
 those, for whom He has not tasted death, whom he has 
 not purchased, have no right to believe He has; and 
 were they so to believe, they must indubitably believe a 
 
 lie. But, finding the temper of Mr. H rise higher 
 
 and higher, every tirtio I repeated my question; I endea- 
 vored 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 founda- 
 tion of my salvation? what am I 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 beheve 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 Newport, Mr. H said: 'There sir, is my 
 
 meeting-house; at a little distance from thence is my 
 dwelling-house, and my friends are multiplied.' Well, 
 sir, I have no home, meeting-house, nor friend, in New- 
 
 Eort. Yet, I repeat, before I leave that city, I expect to 
 ave 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 
 
172 LIFE OF REV. JOHK MURRAY, 
 
 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 seeking 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 pur- 
 pose of giving an idea of his nature. What is a fox? 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 watch-dog, thus endeavoring to make it ap- 
 pear, he is defending the property of the husbandman, 
 while, under the guise of watchful care for others, ho is 
 covertly acting for himself, till the morning dawns, till 
 the light appears, and then his labor ends. This is the 
 leaven of Herod, and it was of the nature of this insidious 
 animal, that our Lord cautioned his disciples to beware. 
 ' Well, there is something ingenious in that I confess.' 
 We reached the ferry a little before sunset, and on land- 
 ing at Newport: ' There said Mr. H , pointing to a 
 
 small shop. If you will call on that man, he will give you 
 direction.' I walked on, stopped at the door, and hold- 
 ing 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.' T 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 pres- 
 sure of some heavy calamity; and, as no woman appear- 
 ed, 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 information. ' 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 oblig- 
 ing 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. . ITS 
 
 were here.' I was very much relieved by this intelli- 
 gence, 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 j 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 deficient; you 
 must, however, tarry here tO-night,. and we will take es- 
 pecial care of your horse.' You are very obliging,^ sir; 
 but I had rather, if you please,, attend to my horse my- 
 self. ' 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 nothing in my appearance^ which in- 
 dicates it. 
 
 ' The moment you came to my dx>or, it seemed as if 
 some one had said,^ The person who addresses you is a 
 preacher ; take kind notice of him ; and I immediately 
 determined to obey the impulse.' This instance of pro- 
 vidential care nearly overpowered me, I was the mote 
 affected by thisbrief manifestation, as it closed a very dark 
 day. It spoke to my wounded mind, the language of 
 assurance ; my Divine Master was with me, and had 
 prepared the heart of this man to receive me, and this 
 soothmg consideration gave me inexpressible pleasure. 
 Had I been in a clerical dress, or had the smallest ves- 
 tige of those habiliments been discernible, I should have 
 believed those externals had produced their effect. But, 
 divested as I was; of every thing which could speak to the 
 eye, I could not but greatly rejoice in this instance of recog- 
 nising goodness, and my full soul glowed with fervent 
 and devotional gratitude. My cup of tea was mingled 
 with my tears; but they were tears of joy, of sacred rap- 
 ture. 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 evening; they all appeared very gloomy, and I 
 had sympathy for their situation. After being introduc- 
 ed, they continued for some time silent, and sighed in 
 their turns very bitterly. Those sighs, however, although 
 signs, were not proofs, of sorrow; ft was the custom for 
 very religious people to be very melancholy, and these 
 were very religious people; so much so, that I afterwards 
 
174 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 discovered, there was no Bociety in town, with which 
 they could conscientiously associate. It was proposed, I 
 should narrate, ray experiences, that they might judge if I 
 were a child of God. 1 very readily accommodated myself 
 to their wishes, and gave them a sketch of some memmo- 
 rable scenes in my life. When I closed, a profound 
 silence interrupted onl}^ by sighs, succeeded; at last, one 
 affinned, 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 apply 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 sp6ak in the proposed place Well, 
 would I preach in the room, in Avhich we were sitting; 
 many had so done, and why not me? This also I 
 rejected, 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 provide a place 
 for me; if he had not, I was willing to return, whence I 
 came. ' Perhaps God has provided you a place by di- 
 recting 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 men- 
 tioned, he would have disposed my heart to embrace 
 them; but this \ 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 some- 
 thing uncommon in me, my manner, and my matter, 
 continued with me in conversation the greater part of 
 the night, and, although I had travelled all day, yet I 
 found no inconvenience from this additional fatigue. 
 
 After breakfast on the ensuing day, I walked round 
 the town, and was much pleased Avith its situation; its 
 harbor, and perspective views, delighted me, and, al- 
 though a stranger, with only a few shillings in my 
 pocket, my bosom was as tranquil, as if in my own res- 
 idence, 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 my head, or heart, that I should not be suppli- 
 ed with whatever was necessary for me; I had fared 
 hard, and I could again accommodate myself to the vi- 
 cissitudes of life — yea, and without/ a murmur. I con- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 175 
 
 tinued perambulating the streets, until the hour of dining, 
 when 1 returned to my lodgings. ' Well, sir, the com- 
 mittee of Dr. '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 domesticated 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 opportune, and the 
 peojDle were generally pleased. I was requested to pub- 
 lish a lecture for the next day. J did so, and the con- 
 gregation 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 laboring persons, who could not attend, without 
 loss of time, — and loss of time to them, was loss of prop- 
 erty. 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 indubi- 
 table right to adhere to their vote,; but they must excuse 
 me, if 1 thought it my duty to abide by my determination. 
 The parish met, re-considered their vote, and request- 
 ed me to preach in the evening. Here then I preached, 
 every evening, until the Doctor's return; to whom my 
 kind, honest hosi, 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 press me to abide at his house ; I prom- 
 ised him, and he exulted 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 ex- 
 pressed regret that he could not ask my assistance on the 
 ensuing day, — Sunday, — as there were so many individ- 
 uals who would be offended. My friend was astonish- 
 ed. 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. 
 
176 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the people would be greatly disappointed. The Doctor 
 would not hear him, and we parted, without my receiv- 
 ing even an invitation to repeat my call. My guileless 
 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 hjs roof.' From this 
 moment, I had much to grieve me in Newport, for, al- 
 though 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 lodg- 
 ings; and informed me, that 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. Rogers.' Will you, sir, 
 call upon this gentleman with me .'' ' Certainly, sir, but 
 j^ou 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 out firebrands, arrows, 
 and death, and withdrawn from the investigation, upon 
 which he had reason to calculate. The parade was full of 
 people; the reports ran like wild fire; fame had blown 
 the trumpet of slander, and, at the house of Mr. Rog- 
 ers, many were assembled.. I regretted, that the rever- 
 end calumnrator had flown: I wished to be tried in the 
 presence of the people. I requested, however, that they 
 would exhibit the charges, lodged against me. They 
 did so, and they consisted of the following items: — 1st, I 
 had fonnerly labored for my living: 2dly, I was a mar- 
 ried man; 3dly, I had children; 4thly, I had been a stage 
 player; and 5thly, I had sung songs. Upon which I ob- 
 served: 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 unsuc- 
 cessful attempts to obtain an honorable competency, yet 
 I have, alas 1 and it is with extreme sorrow I make the 
 declaration, I have in this world, neither wife nor child; 
 I solemnly assure jou, I never was an actor upon any 
 stage; I ackowledge I have sung songs, I was once pro- 
 nounced a good singer; yet I do not recollect, that I ever 
 sang any bad songs, indeed 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 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MITRRAT, 177 
 
 these charges could be substantiated, they ought to cri- 
 minate me. It cannot be a crime to laborj Six days 
 shalt thou labor.' The apostle Paul labored with his 
 own hands. Many of you are married menj many of 
 you have children; many, in pursuit of business, quit for 
 a season both wives and children j and if I had relin- 
 quished the stage for the life of a religionist, it should 
 be considered as a testimony in my favor. With regard 
 to song-singing, while music makes a part even of divine 
 worship, a sentimental song could not be supposed detri- 
 mental 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 favor, and the people were astonished, that 
 they had annexed the smallest consequence to those re- 
 ports. 
 
 I had now in Nev/port a very respectable circle of 
 friends, and the occurrence, thus briefly recorded, aug- 
 mented 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 pass- 
 ed, 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 influen- 
 tial characters, earnestly requesting I would upon that 
 evening, deliver a lecture. I consented; the bell an- 
 nounced 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 
 appeared for me. 
 
 Among other valuable acquisitions, which crowned my 
 labors in Newport, was the friendship of Mr., afterwards 
 General Varnum, who gave 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 kind- 
 ness. The Rev. Mr. Snow's meeting.-house was thrown 
 
1T§' LIFE OF REV. JOHN MITRRAT- 
 
 open.;, the congregations in Providence were large, I ac- 
 quired many respectable friends, and my visit was truly 
 pleasing. 1 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 ray patron^ until the winter was at the door. 
 This enduring friend began to fear he should eventually 
 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 1 might have amassed large sums;^ 
 but I had no family, I did not want money, I believed I 
 should be less noxious as a preacher, if I levied no tax- 
 es 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 rancor of the clergy pursued me; this 
 pained me to the soul, and I have passed many agonizing 
 hours, originating from this inveterate source. I, how- 
 ever, veiled those scenes of sorrow from the eye of the 
 many;, in fact„ when engaged in conversation, I so un- 
 reservedly enjoyed my friends, that I ceased, for the time 
 being, to reflect upon my enemies or their enmity. I 
 never left home, without increasing both the number of 
 my friends and my enemies; and they were, individual- 
 ly and collectively, very much in earnest, while every 
 attempt to oppose the progress of truth became, in the 
 hand of God, subservient to the purpose of opening the 
 eyes of the people. 
 
 I think it was in the January of 1773, that a most im- 
 portunate solicitation drew me to Philadelphia; and, hav- 
 ing 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 doctrine 
 and my manner, as excited much curiosity. I was repeat- 
 edly and earnestly urged to proceed to Maryland; an 
 eminent physician, by repeated letters, reiterated his solici- 
 tations. A sense of duty imperiously insisted upon my 
 accepting every invitation of the kind, to the extent of 
 my power, and I consequently determined upon an im- 
 mediate comnvencement 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, 
 circumstances?' said cold-hearted Prudence. 1 certainly 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAlT, 179 
 
 will. * But how are you to get through a strange country, 
 in which you have no acquaintance?' 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 unquestiona- 
 bly make provision for you.' But this would be leaning 
 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 purchase any thing, either for your- 
 self, or jour horse.' If I meet with no support. I will 
 return immediately; by this I »hall know, if it be the 
 Avill 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: which way?' To Maryland, sir, to 
 visit a place, which, as I am told, is eighty miles from 
 4:his 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 jour- 
 ney together. We passed on to Chester, delighted with 
 our ride, and dined luxuriantly 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 de- 
 termined to leave you, but I find I am not able; I must 
 proceed. We 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 agreea- 
 bly, 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 ena- 
 bled to cast my care upon God. 
 
180 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 i 
 
 Here my friend, after commending me to the protection 
 of Heaven, bade me adieu. I tarried until breakfast was 
 over, when I requested 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 friendj you have fifty miles more to ride, 
 through a country, not an individual 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 
 impression, which impels me to ask your acceptance of 
 this trifle:' — putting into my hands abundantly sufficient 
 to bring me to the end of my journey. * You may not 
 want this, sir; but you may meet with some individual, 
 who does.' Could my spirit, at this moment forbear 
 ecstatic prostration before the throne of my God, my 
 Father? This was manifestly 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 appointed to distribute. 1 communicated to 
 him my real circumstance, 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 burdensome. I went on from this place, with 
 inexpressible delight, my soul warmly disposed to mag- 
 nify the Lord, and to trust Him at all times not being 
 afraid. My faith, by these manifestations thus invigorat- 
 ed 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 physi- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUXRAY. * 181 
 
 cian, whose letter of earnest solicitation had brought me 
 thus far, with many demonstrations of joy. I was, how- 
 ever greatly surprised, to find a person, who I understood 
 was master of a large fortune, plain, if not penurious, 
 both in his house, furniture, and apparel; but, if I was 
 disappointed by the appearance of the man and his dwell-, 
 ing, I was abudantly 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 be- 
 lieve I was for matter and manner, a second Whitefield. 
 My heart sunk, as I reflected what I had to expect from a 
 gentleman thus circumstanced. I beheld before me a 
 self-righteous Calvinist: and I believed, when he discov- 
 ered (as I was determined he immediately should) the 
 amount of my testimony, he would sincerely repent, that 
 he had summoned me to his abode, and that I should, in 
 consequence, have much to 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 conver- 
 sation, 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 revo- 
 lution had been wrought in my mind. Sir, I once be- 
 lieved the faithful Creator had called into existence by 
 far the greatest number of human beings, with no other 
 intention, than to consign them to endless misery, rescu- 
 ing 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 J 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 confided, was ?i 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 Si partial gospel, 
 conveying the glad tidings of eternal life in Christ Jesus 
 only to an elected few. The gospel, I preach, is glad ti- 
 dings 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 accustomed to the ministry of the recon- 
 ciliation, committed to the apostles, to wit, that God was 
 in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself, not imput- 
 ing unto them their trespasses; that, when all mankind 
 like sheep had gone astray, the Lord, the offended God, 
 laid upon Jesus the iniquities of us all, that he might put 
 16* 
 
18a LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 them away by the sacrifice of hhiiself, 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, hut from their sins. I fear, my good sir, 
 that when you hear me thus preaching the gospel, which 
 God himself preached to Abraham, and which he testified 
 by the mouth of all 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. Here I made a full pause, con- 
 tinuing for a few moments in painful suspense. I was, 
 however soon relieved. * No, sir, you have nothing to 
 fear from me; for although the things, of which you 
 speak, have never entered into my head or heart, yet, 
 give me leave to assure you, it will never 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 revolt- 
 ing at the tidings you bear, that nothing would give mo 
 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 scrip- 
 tures;. 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 wandering hearer; he ex- 
 hibited, what he said he experienced, rapture before un- 
 known. He was indeed, as pne, 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 esti- 
 mation of his God, he had been all his life laboring in vain, 
 and spending his strength for nought. By commerce, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 183 
 
 and the practice of physic, the Doctor had acquired a for- 
 tune of forty thousand pounds sterling; yet from the ap- 
 pearance of the man, we should have concluded his re- 
 sources extremely limited. His offsprings were only one 
 son, and one daughter; his wife was no more; his son a 
 prodigal; his daughter a married woman, in eligible cir- 
 cumstances, and of a most amiable character. The Doc- 
 tor was far advanced in life, and although he had been 
 uniformly employed in ge^frng- 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 went so far, as to as- 
 sure those, who had the care of the house, that he would 
 put it in complete repair, if he might be indulged with the 
 pleasure 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 license, 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 admission; but thosO; whom the Presbytery think prop- 
 er to send, must be admitted every where ! Is not this 
 rank priestcraft?^ But although the doors of every house 
 of worship, in that neighborhood, were shut against us, 
 many private houses were devoted to us, and the Doctor 
 was indefatigable in striving to spread abroad the saviour 
 of the Redeemer'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 highly cultivated; I never knew a finer speaker. 
 He was well acquainted with the religion of the world, 
 and, possessing a happy facility of manifesting his knowl- 
 edge, 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 believing 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, 
 
184 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 among numerous instances of his generosity, I myself was 
 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 astonish- 
 ed, 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 partak(;rs of his felicity. For myself I had rich op- 
 portunities of preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and 
 my pleasures were proportioned to the satisfaction, which 
 L was instrumental in communicating. But it became 
 necessary I should return to Philadelphia, and the. Doctor 
 was exceedingly affected; yet previous to my final depart- 
 ure, I had engaged to preach at an Episcopalian church 
 at some distance, where it was believed a large con- 
 course 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 experi- 
 enced. I was, however determined to keep my appoint- 
 ment, and I rode six miles on horseback, accompanied by 
 a gentleman, who had conceived for me the strongest af- 
 fection, and we derived so much pleasure, from the di- 
 vine subjects, which engaged our attention, that we hard- 
 ly adverted either to the severity of the day, or the dis- 
 tance; and my fellow traveller, in the fulness 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, however, 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; which spirit 
 graciously vouchsafed to take of the things of Jesus, and 
 show them unto us, giving us not only peace, but joy, un- 
 speakable joy, in believing. 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 labored hard to persuade me to 
 continue with him. ' Only,' said he, ' consent to abide 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 185 
 
 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 hinj, most cordially, 
 for his flattering offerj but added, that the tender of his 
 whole estate would be no temptation to me to accept a 
 permanent residence. My mind was, at that time, sol- 
 emnly impressed by a conviction, that 1 v/as 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 spir- 
 it of my commission. An imposing sense of duty com- 
 pelled me to say, that, so long as 1 was able, I would sub- 
 mit to the will of ray Master. Upon the night previous 
 to my departure, we had little sleep. We expatiated with 
 pleasing wonder upon the mysterious ways of Heaven, 
 and we poured out our souls in prayer to that God, who, 
 having brought us 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 
 Philadelphia, yet, without even the vestige of apprehen- 
 sion. But the Doctor, taking me by the hand, essayed to 
 articulate; but was necessitated to pause for self-posses- 
 sion, 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 this as a memento of friend- 
 ship.' I am dear sir, amazed at your liberality. ' I also 
 am amazed — it is the Lords doings, and truly, it is mar- 
 vellous 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 Acaderuy 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, 1 delivered my message; 
 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 Pennsylva- 
 
186 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Ilia, the Jersies, and New-York. My friends were to be 
 found among every class of people, from the highest to 
 the most humble, and almost every day increased the num- 
 ber, both of my friends and enemies. The clergy contin- 
 ued 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, which ray 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, al- 
 though I never saw it, and was indebted for an account of 
 its contents, to some worthy 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 hatred of me, and my testimony, 
 would if possible, be commensurate with his own; and 
 thus, at his righteous 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 resig- 
 nation, and the divine light of thy countenance. Yet the 
 character, priest, and adversary, did not always prove 
 synonymous. A clergyman, upon a memorable evening, 
 entered a house of public worship, in which I was pro- 
 mulgating the truth as it is in Jesus. He presented him- 
 self 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 
 instance; Mr. Duchee, minister of the established church 
 of Philadelphia, Mr. Tretard, of New-Rochelle, Mr. Gano, 
 of New-York, Mr. Tyler, Episcopalian minister of Nor- 
 wich, were among the number of those, who, if they Vvere 
 not fully with me in sentiment, have uniformly discharged 
 toward me the duty of Christian friends. My opportuni- 
 ties of observing uncommon characters ^vere 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-vis- 
 ited this world, after being privileged with more than a 
 bird's-eye view of another. Anthony Benezet migljt also 
 claim many pages. Christopher Marshall; the celebrated 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 187 
 
 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 rug- 
 ged path, over which the journey of life hath conducted 
 me. 
 
 Upon the 10th of October, 1773, I embarked on board 
 the Humbird, 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, Wa- 
 terhouse, Ellery, &c. &c., these all received me with open 
 arras; 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 pul- 
 pit; The Governor granted the state-house to the solici- 
 tations of my friendsy and became himself one of my audi- 
 ence. 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. Lo- 
 pez, 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 pre- 
 serve you wherever you go, giving you good success al- 
 ways.' He would have added; but his overflowing heart 
 evidently denied him utterance. The Jews were gene- 
 rally pleased. They declared, they had never before 
 heard so much in favor of Christianity. Poor hearts! 
 they would see the things, whi«h belong to their peace, 
 if the appointed time of the Father were come; in this 
 their day are they hidden from their eyes : but the day of 
 the Lord cometh, when whatever is hidden shall be re- 
 vealed. 
 
 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 accommodation. These good 
 people learned, that I had been necessitated to part 'with 
 my horsCi^for the purpose of defraying the expenses, at- 
 tendant upon re-printing specimens of apostolic preach- 
 ing, 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 abundantly, 
 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 
 
198 LIFE OF EXV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 to the number of my friends. A member of Dr. S '^s- 
 
 church informed me, it was affirmed, I had absolutely 
 said, all men should he saved. I assured him, I had 
 never said, all men should be saved; I had said, Jesus 
 was and is the Saviour of all men; and that, in the ful- 
 ness of time, he would gather together all things into one, 
 — bringing in his ancient 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 
 Avas nothing for us to do; and he wished to know, if I be- 
 lieved either the one or the other? Certainly not, I repli- 
 ed; it was not the Devil, but the Redeemer, on whom the 
 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 experimentally able 
 to say, ' Truly,, the way of the transgressor is hard; ' for, 
 assuredly, they would be chastised with many stripes. 
 My appearance at East-Greenwich was welcomed by Mr. 
 Varnum, and others. Several gentlemen, whom I had 
 not before knov^n, called upon me at Mr. Varnum's; 
 among these was Dr. Hawkins, who questioned me, and 
 appeared satisfied with my answers; he introduced me to 
 his friends, Mr. Green, &lc. 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 laboring under great indisposition, 
 but God was with me. Esquire Casey took ipe to his 
 house, where I was met by judge Potter for the purpose 
 of conversation. He said he had never been pleased with 
 pulpit exhibitions, because they were so replete with 
 contradictions, and he was determined to sift me thorough- 
 ly. We passed the night together; he performed what 
 he had proposed, v»'ith candor, and appeared satisfied with 
 the result. At parting, he earnestly wished me success^ 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRATf- 189 
 
 and prayed that I might be preserved froia the pow^er of 
 the priest, and the flatterer. This gentleman continued 
 to evince '^veat affection for mej hfe seemed to understand 
 and feel the power of the gospel j 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 mani- 
 festations of divine protection, with which I had been 
 favored, 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 ? Blessed be God who is faithful. Pass- 
 ing an hour at Mi-s. Green's, I was introduced to a lady 
 from Boston, a Mrs. Hubbard-, she questioned me upon 
 the doctrine of reprobation, particularly that passage, 
 which expressly asserts, ' Jacob have I loved, and Esau 
 have I hated.' My answers were so much to her satis- 
 faction, that she gave me a pressing invitation to her 
 house in Boston; and as I coBtemplated 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 proceeded to Pawtuxet, delivering my message in their 
 house of worship; and from thence 1 repaired to Provi- 
 dence, where I was received by those, who had before 
 bade me welcome, with continued kindness. Immediate- 
 ly on my arrival, a summons to pass the evening with the 
 Rev. Mr. Snow was presented me; I delayed not to at- 
 tend him, and I was accompanied by Mr. Binney, a young 
 gentleman of gr6at promise. Mr. Snow's parlor was 
 nearly filled by the members of his church and congrega- 
 tian. A long and solemn pause succeeded the usual cere- 
 monies 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 applica- 
 tion 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 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 opportunity 
 of speaking to you, and determining whether they think 
 proper to open their doors. Do you, sir, believe that all 
 mankind will be saved ?' / believe, Jesus Christ is the Sa- 
 viour of all men; that, by the grace of God, he tasted death 
 for every man; that he is the propitiation for the sins of the 
 
190 LIFE OF HEV. JOH.V MURRAY. 
 
 whole world; and that God was, in Christ, reconciling the 
 world unto Himself, not imputing unto them their tres- 
 passess. 'Well, and do you believe, that all are saved? ' 
 Not as unbelievers; the}', who believe not, are damned. 
 ^ How then are they interested in Jesus?' Precisely as 
 they were in the first Adani. ' 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 cojidemnation,. so by the righteous- 
 ness 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 yes.' 
 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? ' No, we know they do not.' Why 
 then do they pray for it? Do they not pray, that God 
 would hasten the happy time, when he shall bring in his 
 ancient people, the Jews, and with them the fulness of 
 the Gentiles; that all the kingdoms of the world may be- 
 come the kingdoms of God and of His Christ; that they 
 may all be taught of God from the least unto the greatest? 
 For this, and much more, clergymen repeatedly pray i 
 and can we suppose they are dealing hypocritically with 
 their God? are they such monsters of impiety, as to solic- 
 it, for what, they believe the Almighty had determined, 
 before the foundation of the world, he would never grant ? 
 A profound pause succeeded; after which, I was asked: 
 ' Do you, sir,, believe the New Birth is in us, or in 
 Christ ! ' He, who is born of God, sinneth 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 many out of the goodtreasury of his heart, bringeth 
 not forth good and evil, but good, only good. I conceive, 
 therefore, that to be born again, or, as it maybe 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 bitter- 
 ness; others were more calm. I requested them to ob- 
 serve, that, if they reported me as a heretic, they must 
 remember they smote me through Paul's skirts, for I had 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 191 
 
 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 re- 
 ported. One gentleman declared, that, whether I deemed 
 it honest, or not, he should repprt me as a heretic. I then 
 insisted, he should declare, what heresy was. He said, I 
 was against the gospel. 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 Iring 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; sup- 
 pose I was wrong, I could not contaminate the house 
 for his part, he did not see that I had said any things 
 which had been proved erroneous; that he most devoutly 
 blessed God he had been present, for he had received 
 more light, than he had 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 re- 
 ception; and thus, by permission of minister and people, 
 I again and again addressed a vast multitude from the 
 pulpit of the Rev. Mr. Snow, of Providence, and my 
 hearers appeared serious and attentive. 
 
 During my continuance in Providence, I became ac- 
 quainted with Doctor Huse of that place, a very uncom- 
 mon man, and, as it appeared to me, of a very luminous 
 intellect. Bidding me Godspeed, he added: ^ Sir, I re- 
 joice, that you dare be honest; how long you will con- 
 tinue so, I know not. At present you are boldly facing 
 danger, and without fear. Continue, I beseech you, to 
 
19^ LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 declare unmixed truth, although all men should be against 
 you.' On the 26th of October, 1773, I 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 un- 
 willing to disturb strangers at an hour so improper for a 
 first introduction, and the old question recurred: 'What 
 are you to do now? ' The passengers, one after another 
 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 respecting you, and we have been looking out 
 for you with great impatience.' All was immediately 
 settled; and thus was I met, in Boston, by the good pro- 
 vidence 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 innocent, honest man, and his family were 
 truly friendly. Upon the ensuing morning I delivered my 
 letter to Major Paddock, whose reception of me was such 
 as a stranger ought to expect, coolly civil; he, however, 
 introduced me to Mr. Williams, a respectable, philan- 
 thopic gentleman strongly attached to the writings of Ja- 
 cob Bhemen. To Mr. Williams I have most gratefully 
 to acknowledge a series of important and essential obliga- 
 tions. 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 Saturday, October 30th. In this interval, I re- 
 ceived from Mr. Thomas Handasyde Peck, a polite invi- 
 tation to dine. Mr. Peck was a very respectable man, 
 and his lady a most valuable woman;* they were unwea- 
 ried 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 
 
 * Many of the descendants of this exemplary couple are among the 
 most opulent dwellers in this town. It is reported, that they are 
 marching forward in the luminous path of their excellent ancestors j 
 that they uniformly extend to the children of adversity a munificent 
 and extricating hand ; and, although their voices 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. Ed. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 193 
 
 eminently the characteristic of his adherents, — they were 
 abundantly less bigoted than other Religionists. In the 
 agreeable family of Mr. Peck, 1 passed a most delightful 
 day; I related to them the manner of my coming 'to the 
 house of my patron, and 1 sketched for them the dealings 
 of God with me, since he had called me forth. They lis- 
 tened 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 im- 
 measurably 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 
 honor and glory to the inspired pages of this writer. I 
 could not forbear experiencing great satisfaction from the 
 consideration, that Jesus Christ was made unto me wis- 
 dom. The adherents of Bhemen enjoyed their philosoph- 
 ical 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 overthrowing my plan; to whom I ob- 
 served, 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 Reproba- 
 tion, pledge myself immediately 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.? ' I wonder you should 
 ask such a question.' Why, sir, why should you not take 
 pleasure in that, in which God takes pleasure.'^ 'God 
 does not take pleasure in destruction, sir.?' What, sir, and 
 make individuals on purpose to destroy them I and Almigh- 
 ty too — ruling in heaven above, and in earth beneath, 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 
 17* 
 
# 
 
 104 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 you, — and will He not do likewise ? shall the 'disciple be 
 above his Master, 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 acquainted 
 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 delineated, 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 beings he has 
 been instrumental in introducing into existence? It is 
 confessed by all, that God is Almighty; that he is a sove- 
 reign; that he can do, and will do, as he pleases; and that 
 no power can resist his will. It is also said. That he will- 
 eth not the death, the eternal death, of the sinner; that he 
 willeth,that man should be saved; that he hath appointed, 
 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, rec- 
 onciling 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 Jesus; 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 come unto him, he will in no wise cast out. Are 
 multitudes cast out forever? Then it is because they 
 ■were not taught of God; for if they 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 imyond 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 195 
 
 tke consequence would be their eternal damnation.'* O 
 yes; but this is perfectly right; for, when he called, they 
 would not near. 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, 1 preached for 
 the first time in Boston, in the hall of the factory. My 
 hearers were attentive, and after I had closed, several in- 
 dividuals addressed me, and with apparent kindness invi- 
 ted me to visit them at their houses. On the succeeding 
 evening, (Sunday,) I again preached in the hall; the con- 
 gregation was too large for the place. My subject was 
 Zechariah ix. 9. The people were more aft'ectionate than 
 the preceding evening; many solicited me to tarry, and 
 assured me, that a better place should be provided for my 
 accommodation. On Monday ftvening, 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 advo- 
 cate for the Redeemer. 
 
 A Mr. Little, of Newburyport, united his earnest solici- 
 tations 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 accompa- 
 nied Mr Little and others in the stage for Newburyport. 
 On our arrival, inquiries were made at the coach-side, if 
 1 was there; and on being answered in the affirmative, a 
 crowd collected. Mr. Parsons, the Presbyterian minister, 
 a venera|3le looking gentleman, immediately visited me, 
 and asked me many questions. Where I came from.'' 
 what clergymen I was acquainted with? and what creden- 
 tials I could produce ? During his inquiries he discovered, 
 as it appeared to me, some uneasiness at the idea of my 
 preaching in his pulpit: I therefore hastened to inform 
 him, that I was no priest, nor approved of by gentlemen 
 of that order; that I professed myself somewhat acquaint- 
 ed with the salvation wrought out by Jesus Christ, and 
 that wherever his providence called me, I was willing to 
 speak well of the 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 prop- 
 
2i9B LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 erty of the people, and when it Avas not occupied, they 
 had an indubitable right to invite who they pleased. 
 Speaking of my call to preach, whether ordinary, or ex- 
 traordinary, I observed I had both when he petulently 
 asked: ' Pray, can you speak with tongues? ' It is possi- 
 ble 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 take up any deadly thing, 
 it shall not hurt them. From these evidences, sir, per- 
 haps 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 congregation 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 host; and upon the ensuing morning, "(Saturday,) in 
 eonsequence of a very polite invitation, I breakfasted with 
 Mr. Parsons, and I was received by him, and his, very cor- 
 dially ; his countenance brightened upon me, and he re- 
 quested 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 com- 
 munion, upon John xv. 12. On the ensuing day, (Sun- 
 day), 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 I lodged, at Mr. Little's, upon the very same bed, in 
 which Mr. Whitefield had reposed; and that I had preach- 
 ed in the pulpit, before which he was entombed. I con- 
 tinued 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. Parson's church, quitting his seat, 
 addressed the congregation, and in a 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 salva- 
 tion. We have too long been in darkness; yea, our 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 197 
 
 tongues have cleaved to the roofs of our mouths, and this 
 man is sent to animate and renew our faith.' Many bless- 
 ed God, thev had seen and heard me; and all this I impu- 
 ted to a want of knowledge, relative to the extent of the 
 elad 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 
 1 repeated those glorious texts of scripture, which indispu- 
 tably proclaim the redeinption of the lost world, — as I did 
 not expressly say, My brethren, I receive these texts in 
 the unlimited sense in which they are given, — they were 
 not apprized, that I did not read them with the same con- 
 tracted views, to which they had been accustomed. When 
 they became assured of the magnitude and unbounded re- 
 sult, 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 bene- 
 ficial to mankind, than the sudden burst of meridian day. 
 Thus 1 was contented with proclaiming the truth as it is 
 in Jesus, in scripture language only, — leaving to my hear- 
 ers deductions, comments, and applications. 
 
 While I continued at Newburyport, numerous solicita- 
 tions poui-ed upon me, from various quarters; but, in 
 haste to return to Philadelphia, I could only comply with 
 the urgent importunities of several gentlemen from Ports- 
 mouth, to which place I journied on the 10th of November, 
 1773. I was received at Portsmouth with most flattering 
 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 occu- 
 pying seats therein. In Portsmouth I received many 
 marks of friendship; my necessities were sought out, and 
 removed; and the name of Clarkson, Morrison, Hart, and 
 Drown, son of the deceased minister, were, on that first 
 visit, among my most partial friends. I returned to New- 
 buryport, 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 request- 
 ed I would write to him from Philadelphia; and on Wed- 
 nesday, November 17th, I returned to Boston, where I 
 learned, that a spirit of inquiry was in operation among 
 my friends; that their bibles were in their hands; and that 
 
198 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 they were diligently employed in searching the scriptures, 
 to find whether these things were indeed so. Upon the 
 evening of the 18th, I preached in the mansion of my ven- 
 erable friend, Mr. Peck; and I was distinguished by him 
 and his lady, with even parental kindness: Mrs. Peck en- 
 treating 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 whw'h I am speaking, there in Boston 
 were a number of Deists, who attended my labors. Their 
 leader gave me frequent invitations to visit him; he sum- 
 ' (joned his friends, with v/hom he 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 Gamaliel; 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 comfortless doctrine,--to ha\e affirmed, that a few 
 were elected to everlasting life; while, by the same irreversi- 
 ble decree, countless millions were consigned to remedi- 
 less and never-ending misery. But, I added, sirs, believe 
 it not; for, verily, the doctrine, that God was in Christ 
 reconciling the world unto himself, was uniformly pro- 
 claimed 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 consequence of 
 election, nor does it appear in the writings of the Apostle 
 to the Gentiles. A governor is elected by a common- 
 wealth, a council, senators, representatives are elected; 
 but are the people therefore consigned to perdition ? Thus 
 I went on, and my little audience with lifted hands ex- 
 claimed: ' This plan is worthy of a God; and we felici- 
 tate you, dear sir, as the Ambassador of Deity.' The hall 
 of the Factory, and the dwelling of my friend being too 
 small for the increasing congregation, Mr. Peck proposed 
 I should publish a lecture in the meeling-houso of Mr. 
 
 Q J of which he was the principal support. I at first 
 
 declined this proposal; but his repeated, and earnest so- 
 licitations, induced me to preach in Mr. C- — -^ — 's pulpit. 
 In the hall of the Factory also, I again delivered my mes- 
 sage; and on Friday, IS^ovember 26th, I preached at Fa,-|' 
 neuU Hall: my subject, John viii, 86: Jf the Son y there'] 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 199 
 
 /ore, shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed, The\ 
 principal gentlemen of the town were among my audience, (^ 
 who heard me with great seriousness. After lecture, ma- 1 
 ny took me by the hand, and, urging me to return to them f 
 speedily, prayed in the warmest manner, for my success, 
 as a gospel promulgator. This was the last night of my 
 abode in Boston, on my first visit. I passed it at Mr. 
 Peck's, accompanied by some friends, and we devoted it 
 to scriptural investigations. My continuance in Boston 
 was strongly urged; but I was under the necessity of de- 
 parting, and devotional prayers for my safety, success, 
 and speedy return, were reiterated — such are my Cre- 
 dentials. I left Boston on Saturday, November 27; 
 reaching Providence 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. 
 Binney, for East-Greenwich, I met some very dear frionds, 
 and, as iron sharpeneth iron, so was my countenance 
 brightened, and my spirit soothed and cheered. 
 
 From this period, IN^ovember 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 ti- 
 dings in various places, friends and enemies still multiply- 
 ing. At New-London my opportunities of preaching 
 were repeated and the number of my treasures propor- 
 tionably augmented; Hertell, Whey, Trwewa/i, these were 
 of the true circumcision, who worshipped God in the spir- 
 it, 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, Huntington, Champlin, Hub- 
 bard, &,c. 8tc., 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 ex- 
 treme reluctance of inquirers to receive their answers in 
 scripture language. Standing alone, I have sought to 
 wrap myself, or rather to intrench myself in the sacred 
 testimony of my God; and for this I have been accused of 
 prevarication, equivocation, and what not? merely be- 
 cause I have not generally chosen to garb my sentiments 
 in my own words. For example : The interrogator com- 
 mences with a great many compliments, and then follows: 
 
200 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 * Do you believe all men will finally be saved?' I believe, 
 it is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour, 
 who will have 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 all his holy prophets, since the 
 world began. ' But still you do not answer my question.' 
 Why, sir, for any thing 1 know, the authors, I have cited, 
 mean, by their words, precisely the same as I do. I adopt 
 their language, because I conceive it expresses my own 
 ideas better than any set of phrases I could press into my 
 service. This mode, however, has rarely given satisfac- 
 tion. Persons dare not, in an unqualified manner, deny 
 the validity of scripture testimony; they can only assert, 
 it does not mean as it speaks, and they earnestly repeat the 
 question : ' Do you believe,' &c. &c. While my respon^ 
 ses are drawn from the sacred streams, flowing in the book 
 of God, from Genesis to Revelations, still they importu- 
 nately, sometimes clamorously demand: 'But do you take 
 those scriptures, as they are spoken? To which I can 
 only reply : I have no reason to believe 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 I have answered: Mul- 
 titudes are on your side; many have labored to prove God 
 a liar; but I have never yet heard any argument, sufficient- 
 ly potent, to convince me that He is so. 
 
 On the ninth of April, in this year, I received from the 
 church and congregation in Portsmouth, New-Hampshire, 
 worshipping in the separate meeting-house, a solemn, and 
 aflfectioiiate call, to take upon me the pastoral charge of 
 that people; but I was not then convinced I ought to ac- 
 cept an establishment in any place. I passed the spring, 
 and the early part of the summer of 1774, in Pennsylva- 
 nia, the Jersies, and New-York with persons, who had 
 drank into the same spirit with myself; with my revered 
 friend, and father, with the Mounts and Pangburns of 
 these happy days. Blessed be God, I have indeed enjoy 
 ed richly the consolations of friendship. In Philadelphia 
 I was present at the heart-rending trial of some malefac- 
 tors, which resulted in their receiving 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHJS MURRAY. 201 
 
 those criminals, 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 mercies of the Redeemer was more effectual, 
 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 deriving inexpressi- 
 ble satisfaction from beholding their order, their zeal, and 
 the magnitude of their faith. On the 16th of August, the 
 governor 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 governor attended, 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 
 and 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 Ma- 
 sons'-Hall; but the throng, and consequent confusion 
 were so great, that I was necessitated to desist, even after 
 I had worded my text: and finally, the congregation still 
 augmenting, I yielded to the pressing solicitations of the 
 
 proprietors of Mr. C 's meeting-house, and repeatedly 
 
 delivered my testimony there. On the 31st of October, a 
 gentleman, by the name of Sargent, called upon me from 
 Gloucester, urging me to accompany him to his place of 
 residence. My engagements would not allow my imme- 
 diate attendance, but I gave my word for an early compli- 
 ance with his wishes. November 2d, Wednesday even- 
 ing, I named as the subject of my public lecture, Luke 13th, 
 from the 24th to the 30th. After I had closed, a clergy- 
 man, of a respectable appearance, whom I had never be- 
 fore seen, ascended the stairs of the pulpit, and addressed 
 the people to the following effect: ' My friends, you have 
 heard a great deal said, (for what purpose I know not,) 
 which is calculated to lead you astray from the true mean- 
 ing of the text. The passage refers to the general judg- 
 ment, 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 pos- 
 sible, that, if they should thus behold them, they could 
 ever be happy ? It is not possible, that any, who die in a 
 18 
 
202 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 State of unbelief, should ever be happy to all eternity; and 
 therefore, my brethren, 1 would exhort you to take care 
 you are not led astray b}'^ the words of man's wisdom, and 
 the cunning craftiness of men, whereby they lay in wait 
 to deceive. O! it is very dangerous to give heed to such 
 things.' Thus the gentleman proceeded, earnestly warn- 
 ing the people, and then paused. Again I arose, saying:. 
 Now this is well; I like this. How infinitely preferable to 
 secret calumny; no bush-fighting here. And, so much 
 am I gratified with 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 jinal judgment. Do but attend to the 
 concluding verse: There are last, which shall hejirst, and 
 Jirst, which shall be last. Surely, the text would not be 
 thus warded, if the last judgment were designed. The 
 parable of the ten virgins illustrates this passage. Then 
 turning to the 11th of Romans, I pointed out some par- 
 ticulars, which are generally passed unnoticed; and when 
 I read, '/or God hath included them allin UNBELIEF, 
 that he might have mercy upon all,' my opponent, rising, 
 looked over my shoulder evidently to ascertain, if I had 
 given the genuine reading of the text; upon which a law- 
 yer, in the assembly, exclaimed: 'I advise you, sir, to 
 retire, and read your bible.' I begged we might not be in- 
 terrupted; and I afllirmed, that my antagonist was entitled 
 to my cordial thanks, and that I devoutly wished his ex- 
 ample might be generally influential. I then proceeded 
 to show, that it was possible an individual might pass 
 out of time, ignorant of God an yet be taught of God in 
 that great day, when the books should be opened. I read 
 the last part of the 22d Psalm, making a few remarks there- 
 on; and, after exhorting the audience to follow the exam- 
 ple of the Bereans, paused for a reply. The gentleman 
 affirmed, I had given an erroneous view of the parable of 
 the ten virgins; that it pointed out the visible church, and 
 that the foolish virgins were the hypocrites: and he admon- 
 ished the people to beware of false teachers, &c. &c. To 
 which I replied, by presuming the gentleman did not rec- 
 ollect, that the foolish virgins seemed to be equally a part of 
 the kingdom of heaven, with the wise virgins, otherwise he 
 would not so liberally 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 305 
 
 again be brought into subjection to principles, the propri- 
 ety of which our hearts refused to acknowledge. 
 
 November Sd, I repaired to Gloucester, and was re- 
 ceived 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 Ma- 
 ryland to New-Hampshire, without meeting a single in- 
 dividual, who appeared to have the smallest idea of what 
 I esteemed the truth, as it is in Jesus; but to my great 
 astonishment, there were a few persons, 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, ob- 
 serving in the papers of the day, an individual malignantly 
 arrainged, as a preacher of Kelly's Gospel, they delayed 
 not to despatch 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 obtained per- 
 mission 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 appro- 
 priated to the expounding of the scriptures, in the spa- 
 cious and well filled parlor of my new, and highly re- 
 spectable friend; and I had reason to believe, that God 
 most graciously crovmed my labors in .this place, by giving 
 to some brighter 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 Saturday morning, accompanied by Mr Sargent, I re- 
 turned to Boston. Upon the evenings of Sunday, and 
 
 Wednesday, I agam occupied the pulpit of Mr C , 
 
 and upon the evening of Wednesday the audience were 
 incommoded by a profusion of water thrown over them, 
 and an es,^ was aimed at me in the pulpit, which however 
 happened to miss me. On Thursday a piece of slander 
 
204 Li^E OF REV. John WtrRRAT. 
 
 was published in the paper of the day, over the signature 
 
 of Mr C . He had before dedaredj he 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 ex- 
 ample, and I therefore addressed the following letter, to 
 his private ear. 
 
 Sir: 
 Some time since, being under the disagreeable neces- 
 sity 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 exam- 
 ple 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 performance, 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 opportunity of vindicating myself 
 at the bar of the impartial public; yes, I should rejoice to 
 see a very large audience collected: but, as I suppose 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 gentle- 
 man, 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, by the bearer, when you will do this 
 piece of common justice, to the cruelly, and most unwar- 
 rantably treated, 
 
 JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 This letter enraged him, and he sent it back, declaring 
 he would have nothing to do with me. But on the follow- 
 ing 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 adherents, 
 for the purpose of barring me out. Making no resistance, 
 I requested the gentleman might be heard with patient 
 
 attention; and silence being obtained, Mr C entered 
 
 the pulpit, and declaimed for a long time, with great bit- 
 terness; accusing me of preaching damnable doctrines, 
 though he had never heard me preach ; but so he had 
 

 LIF£ OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 205 
 
 been informed, asserting that I was one of Kelly's follow 
 ers, and Relly believed all mankind would be saved; and 
 Relly was a blasphemer and denied the atonement; and I 
 was a Deistj and it v/as dangerous to allow me to speak; 
 for I said once, in his hearing, that God loved the devil's 
 children : and then, raising his voice he vociferated, * It 
 is a lie, a lie, a lie, it is a damnable He.' Thus he went 
 on alternately crying out against me, and against Mr. 
 Relly, damning my preaching, and his writings, and ex- 
 horting 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 urged the 
 people to give me an opportunity of having justice done 
 me, by detaining my accusing adversary that I might de- 
 fend myself in his presence; and Mr. C was accord- 
 ingly led into a pew. I informed the audience that I did 
 indeed labor under great difficulty. The person, to whom 
 I was about to reply was an old gentleman and a clergy- 
 man, 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 
 
 Frice; a gem, with which its possessor should never part, 
 should therefore take leave to say, Mr. C was 
 
 very right, and very wrong. Right in condemning damna- 
 ble doctrines wrong in charging me with preaching those, 
 
 doctrines. 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 the 
 
 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 contrary, have I not borne constant testi- 
 mony 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 unbeliever? Surely it is highly 
 inconsistent to rank me with the Deist, who utterly dis- 
 owns 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, 
 18 
 
206 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY 
 
 -accuses him, is no where to be found, in his wri- 
 
 tings. These writings, give me leave to say, will live 
 and be held in admiration, when ten thousand such 
 
 characters as Mr C 's and mine, will be consigned 
 
 to oblivion. Thus I went on. Mr. C again ad- 
 vanced to the pulpit; reiterated what he had before 
 asserted, without regarding a syllable which I had utter- 
 ed, 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, thon I will reply to yours. Did God love Pe- 
 ter, and Paul, as well before they believed as afterwards? 
 ' God loved Peter, and Paul, from the foundation 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 commit 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 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 proceeded most violently, and, 
 that the heresy might be confirmed, he once more ques- 
 tioned: 'Do you believe, that God loves the devil's chil- 
 dren, 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.' 
 
 Again I ask, what is it constitutes the character of the 
 wicked man ? Here several individuals tremulously ask- 
 ed: ' Why do you not answer the question ? we are all 
 concerned in it, we are seeking information.' ' Suppose 
 I cannot: let some one else answer, and, if I like it, I will 
 agree to it.' No answer was given, and Mr. C re- 
 sumed 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 I explained myself. What are we to un- 
 derstand by a father, and a child, but begetter and begot- 
 ten ? Can you, Mr. C — , or can any one present, 
 
 presume to say, that the bodies, 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. SPJT 
 
 in Adam; and if we were in Adam, we were what Adam 
 was. But the Evangelist 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 mat- 
 ter beyond 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 im- 
 measurable. 1 then repeated the parable, and the expla- 
 nation: and proved from thence, that the abominations of 
 the earth, were the children of the devil, becausepro 
 duced by him; that the iniquities of the people w^ere 
 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 having 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. C- interrupted: ^ Nine 
 
 tenths of all you have said is nothing at all to the purpose : 
 and again, in terms the most violent, he renewed his ac- 
 cusation, 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 taunt- 
 ingly said: * 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 congregation, I 
 thus delivered the genuine sentiments of my soul : I am 
 commissioned to say, to every individual before me, that 
 God loves you, and that you are not to accept this dec- 
 laration upon my bare word; you have the word of a God, 
 which 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 rear- 
 ing you from infancy; in guarding you through the devi- 
 ous paths of childhood, and youth; and preserving you 
 from ten thousand dangers, to which you have been ex- 
 posed. His gracious providence, in so plentifully provi- 
 ding for you, is a proof of His love, four civil, and re- 
 ligious liberties are blessed proofs of the love of your God. 
 These particulars announce the love of Deity, to every indi- 
 vidual, as a Creator, and Preserver. Yet these manifesta- 
 tions may be considered as merely temporal : But, blessed 
 be the holy name of Jehovah ! I am authorised to add, 
 and in plain English too, that God loves the soul, which 
 
208 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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, Reconciliation, Regeneration, a new Head, a new 
 Heart, a right Spirit. Here your Creator so loved you, 
 as to give you Wisdom, Righteousness, Sanctijication, and 
 Redemption. In Christ Jesus, God has so loved you, as 
 to bless you with all spiritual blessings; Every individu- 
 al should believe this, since it is nothing more than an ac- 
 complishment 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 unbelieving 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 glorious truths, because, if you 
 were delivered from his usurpation, you would hencefor- 
 ward serve your Creator without fear. The arch fiend 
 is solicitous to retain you in bondage; his utmo.->t efforts 
 are in requisition to prevent you from believing, 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 prevent 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 henceforth 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 behavior, and it did 
 not give them pleasure. For myself, I had much cause 
 for gratitude to my divine Master; 1st, that he was pleased 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRIT 209 
 
 to give me words; and 2dly, that he did not suffer me to 
 lose my self-command. No, not for an instant. 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 suffocated by the strong efflu- 
 via, arising from the asafcetida with which the tools of the 
 adversary had wet the pulpit and the pulpit cloth, plentiful- 
 ly 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 pro- 
 ceed; but the God of my life was sufficiently abundant for 
 mo. The demons of confusion were, however, not quite 
 satisfied; many stones were violently thrown into the win- 
 dows; yet no one received any other injury, than the alarm, 
 which was created. At length, a large rugged stone, weigh- 
 ing 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 killed me. Lifting it up, and 
 waving it in the view of the people, I observed: 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, leave the 
 pulpit, your life is at hazard.' Be it so, I returned, the 
 debt of nature must be paid, and I am as ready, and as will- 
 ing, to discharge it now, as I shall be fifty years hence. 
 Yet, for your consolation, suffer me to say, I am immortal, 
 while He who called me into existence has any business 
 for me to perform; and when he has executed those pur- 
 poses, for which he designed me. He will graciously sign 
 my passport to realms of blessedness. With your good 
 leave, then I pursue my subject, and while I have a — 
 Thus saith the Lord — for every point of doctrine which 
 I advance, not all the stones in Boston, except they stop 
 my breath, shall shut my mouth, or arrest my testimony. 
 The congregation 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 triumphant. 
 Two or three succeeding lecture evenings were unmolest- 
 ed, 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 at- 
 tended 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 
 
210 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 tortures, 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 imme- 
 diately upon conviction, to relinquish the obnoxious 
 tenet, whatever it might chance to be, and to adopt that 
 better way, which would, in such an event, become lumi- 
 nous before me. Truth, and gratitude, originates the con- 
 fession, that in all circumstances, I have hitherto had rea- 
 son 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. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 I§^mary Record of Events, from January 1775 to October 
 1809. 
 
 Amid the haunts of memory let me stray, 
 As duty, love, and friendship, point the way } 
 With hand of diligence: and humid eye, 
 The faithful record tearfully supply. 
 
 Would the beloved preacher had continued his narra- 
 tive. The Editor fondly calculating upon assistance which 
 she believed her.self authorised to expect, pledged herself 
 to continue the sketch, even to the closing scene. Butj 
 alas! disappointed in her cherished hopes, she stands 
 alone. Her health is broken, her spirits are depressed, 
 and she is advanced in life; yea, doubtless, she is inade- 
 quate to the per'^'^rmance of her promise — But she remem- 
 bers that this voiume is addressed only to the friends of 
 the dear departed, and she mournfully proceeds to its com- 
 pletion. 
 
 Upon December 14, 1774, Mr. Murray again visited 
 Gloucester; the numerous family of the Sargcnts then 
 seated in that place, embraced in almost all its branches, 
 the truth as it is in Jesus, and their attachment to film, 
 whom they believed an ambassador of the Redeemer, was 
 proportioned to their zeal. Many respectable names 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. Sfl 
 
 were added, and a little congregation was collected, who 
 seemed to have among them but one heart, and one soul. 
 Like the primitive Christians, 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 pro- 
 mulgator of glad tidings, until some time in January, 1775, 
 upon the 20th of which month he made a second journey to 
 Newburyport and Portsmouth. Those who had adhered 
 to him in those towns, having ascertained that he abso- 
 lutely believed the final restitution of all things, united 
 with the many in the most unqualified censure. But the 
 friends he had lost, particularly in Portsmouth, were re- 
 placed by many others, among whom we find the names 
 of Judge, and Sheriff Parker, Atkinson, Wentworth, Aus- 
 tin, Warner, Sheafe, Langdon, Sewall, Brackett, Whip- 
 ple, Thompson, Turner, Gardner, Massey, Jackson, &c. 
 &c. The heaven-instructed preacher continued many 
 years an occasional visitor in Portsmouth, where his la- 
 bors were greatly blessed, and when other pulpits were 
 closed against him in that metropolis, the doors of the 
 Episcopal Church were 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 occasion; we transcribe a verbatim copy: 
 * Whereas it is represented that some objections have been 
 made by one, or more persons, belonging to the Church call- 
 ed Queens Chapel, against the doors thereof being opened 
 for the admission of Mr. John Murray to preach the gos- 
 pel; Wherefore, we the subscribers, proprietors, and 
 parishioners of the Church aforesaid, having taken the same 
 into consideration — Do (in order to remove any difiiculties 
 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, 
 whenever it may be convenient for him to perform divine 
 service in town, more especially during his present stay; 
 and, instead of deeming it an indulgence granted him, vre 
 shall, on the contrary, acknowledge it a favor conferred 
 on us, in his acceptance of this invitation. Portsmouth, 
 May 24, 1781.' — Signed by twenty-four of the leading 
 
212 I-IFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 members 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 voluntary 
 preacher of the Gospel. A convenient house was raised 
 for his use, by the brethren in Portsmouth, and he contin • 
 ued, until his departure out of time, a zealous and able 
 minister of the Reconciliation. 
 
 Attached to the Gloucesterians, Mr. Murray once mor«! 
 believed he had found a permanent residence; yet, al- 
 though he consented to consider that place as his home; 
 he did not relinquish the persuasion that his commission 
 obliged him to go forth a preacher of the Gospel, where- 
 ever, 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 means of annoyance was in requisi- 
 tion. The spirit of liberty mounted very high in Glou- 
 cester, and for the purpose of influencing the ignorant, 
 the teacher was proclaimed a Papist, sent out by Lord 
 North, to aid the purpose 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 most illegally shrouded in silence, and a 
 vote was thus surreptitiously obtained, that he shoulu 
 forthwith depart from the borders of Gloucester; of this 
 vote he was advertised by an officer — let us not say of 
 justice. Still, however, he continued witnessing both to 
 small and great, what Moses and the prophets had testi- 
 fied concerning Jesus of Nazereth, that he died for our 
 sins, and arose again for our justification. The most un- 
 warrantable means were employed, old slanders were re- 
 suscitated, and new accusations brought forward; tales 
 which had been repeatedly confuted, were new garbed, 
 and sent abroad, swelling the bosom of integrity with un- 
 utterable 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, completely exonerating the accused. Mr. 
 Murray's sentiments upon the sacred and consolatory or- 
 
LIFE OF REV. J»HN MURRAY. ^13 
 
 dinance of the Lord's Supper, are explained and expati- 
 ted upon, in his Letters and Sketches of Sermons, to 
 which the interested reader is referred. It cannot be de- 
 nied, that characters generally respectable combined to 
 stimulate the mob to the most desperate measures, but 
 every unwarrantable project was frustrated. The doors 
 of the meeting-house being now closed, the parlors of re- 
 spectable friends became the places of assembling, until 
 at length a spacious room was consecrated for that pur- 
 
 Eose. Letters of excommunication were now addressed, 
 y the established Minister, to seventeen of the most re- 
 spectable Church members, and this, for their attachment 
 to the Gospel of God our Saviour. While others, avail- 
 ing themselves of a Provincial Law, endeavored 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 gifts which constituted him a freeholder in Glou- 
 cester. The months of March and April, in this year, 
 were, by the preacher, devoted to visiting his friends in 
 Boston, and various parts of Rhode Island, and toward 
 the close of April, he returned to his highly favored home, 
 rejoicing that the zeal, and attachment of the Glouces- 
 terians, were nothing diminished, and their meetings for 
 scriptural investigations were joyfully resumed. In the 
 month of May, 1775, the leading officers of the Rho|de Is- 
 land Brigade, assembled in the neighborhood of Boston, 
 despatched a respectable messenger, with a letter, solicit- 
 ing the attendance of the promulgator, as chaplain to their 
 detachment of the Revolutionary Army. We transcribe 
 a verbatim copy of this letter. 
 
 ' Dear Sir: 
 
 ' Amidst that concurrence of events which the great Cre- 
 ator in infinite wisdom directs, for the accomplishment of 
 his own purposes, a British armament hath set hostile 
 foot upon American ground. What the design of the Al- 
 mighty may be, we cannot at present absolutely determine. 
 One thing we know, our cause is jwsf, 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 Roxbury, and that this army may do 
 honor to themselves, and the cause in which they are em- 
 barked, it is requisite that propriety of manners, regularity 
 of conduct, and a due reliance upon the Almighty controll- 
 er of events, should be cultivated and enforced. The most 
 
214 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 
 worship. We have, therefore, selected you as a Chaplain 
 to our Brigade, well convinced that your extensive benev- 
 olence, and abilities, will justify our choice. We cannot 
 without doing violence to the opinion we have formed of 
 your character, doubt of your ready compliance with our 
 united request. The support you will receive shall exact- 
 lyy correspond with your feelings, and your wishes. We 
 are, dear sir. Sec. &.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 elsewhere, would not allow the preacher to balance, 
 and, accordingly resigning the calm recess of friendship, 
 he presented himself in the American 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 mem- 
 orandum of this date, he thus expresses himself; ' My 
 troubles have recommenced ; 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 officers 
 are gentlemen, and call into action every effort to strength- 
 en my hands ; but the soldiers — ^alas ! the fact is, I am 
 not in my own company.' Upon the 3d of July, the chap- 
 lain accompanied a detachment of the Brigade, to com- 
 pliment General Washington, upon his arrival to take the 
 supreme command of the army at Cambridge ; 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, 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 regiments 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 j we indulge ourselves by selecting an in- 
 stance, which did not reach our ears, until since his 
 decease. A detachment of the army were ordered to 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 215 
 
 march, a river was to be forded ; a poor soldier in years, 
 and struggling with sickness, was tottering under his bur- 
 den : the preacher instantly accoutred himself with the 
 knapsack, arms, and cartouch box, and, thus arrayed, pro- 
 ceeded on, while the sufferer disencumbered passed lightly 
 over. The writer of this sketch, could furnish a series 
 of similar anecdotes ; often, when his finances have been 
 at the lowest ebbj and the prodigious expense of living 
 had produced distressing embarrassments, she has seen 
 him extend to the necessitous, an extricating hand, and 
 he not only indulged, and cherished, but invariably stimu- 
 lated every charitable purpose of her soul. 
 
 General Washington, honored the preacher with marked 
 and uniform attention ; the Chaplains of the army united 
 in petitioning the Chief, for the removal of the promulga- 
 tor of glad tidings ; the answer was handed them, in the 
 general orders of the ensuing day, which appointed 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 enclosing 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. General 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 
 prediction fulfilled. Had he embraced the rich opportu- 
 nity then presented he might have continued in the family 
 of General Greene whose friendship was unbroken, and 
 where his abode was hailed as a distinguishing favor, his 
 daily ratio would have augmented for his emolument, his 
 salary would have accumulated, he would have retired 
 upon half pay, or commutation, and during the years of 
 languor, and decrepitude, 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 permit, but being violently seized by an indisposi- 
 tion, which terminated in a billious 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 suflTerings of the sons and 
 daughters of want in that town. War of any description, 
 
^16 I«IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAT. 
 
 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, became, to the 
 hardy, and enterprizing Gloucesterian, legitimate objects 
 of pursuit; and his uniform, and industrious efforts, are 
 crow^ned by competency. But whatever obstructs his ad- 
 venturous 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 con- 
 tinued long enough to try without familiarizing or indu- 
 rating the feelings, and hope had almost become the vic- 
 tim 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 winter, he addressed the 
 general officers in the American army, beginning with 
 their revered Chief, and extending his application, to ma- 
 ny other gentlemen, whose confidence and whose friendship 
 he enjoyed. He adressed to those distinguished individ- 
 uals, 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 pray- 
 ing them to recommend such persons, as were proper ob- 
 jects of this providential bounty; the whole Was punctually 
 distributed, and many sufferers most essentially relieved. 
 Yeton 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 suffering from indisposition, and arraigned at the bar, 
 of the then committee of safety, for the town, of Glouces- 
 ter. Some gentleman councelled him to disregard the sum- 
 mons, especially as the whole committee were not assem- 
 bled, and those who were collected, were decidedly his in- 
 veterate enemies, — but he answered, that possessing a 
 consciousness of innocence, he could not fear the face of 
 man. The following account of the extraordinary pro- 
 ceeding which ensued, is from the minutes of a gentle- 
 man 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.*" 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 217 
 
 From England.' From what part of England? ' *Lon- 
 don * ' What business had you to come to this country.? ' 
 "^ Business, sir ! I felt disposed to come, and came — ' * Wnat 
 business have you iu 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 
 granted, 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 Englishman, we do not 
 know what he is. He associates with a great many, whom 
 Vie 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 impudently commanded to be silent, and his ac- 
 cuser proceeded, until at length the chairman again re- 
 sumed : ' Where did you come from ? We want to know 
 where you were born, and brought up?' Mr, Murray an- 
 swered, ' Gentlemen, it is not my wish to give you unne- 
 cessary trouble. I was born in England, shortly after I 
 had attained my eleventh year, I accompanied my father 
 to Ireland, where I continued many years under his care; 
 when I was between 19 and 20, I returned to England, 
 where I abode, living generally in London, until I quitted 
 it for this country. Since I came into this country, my 
 residence has been in Maryland, Pennsylvania, the Jer- 
 seys, New- York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachu- 
 setts, and New Hampshire.' ' What did you come into 
 this country for?' ' In pursuit of retirement, but concur- 
 rent 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 nie, 
 and received my testimony; they are 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, and 
 every law made among yourselves, breathed a spirit of 
 toleration, I felt assured I should be allowed liberty of con- 
 science; my intentions were upright; a conviction that 
 God had ordained me to proclaim the gospel, has been pow- 
 erfully 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 certainly 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 
 19 
 
318 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAT. 
 
 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 already been warned out of 
 town, and if you be apprehensive of my becoming a charge, 
 I can procure bonds.' One of the committee addressed 
 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 ma- 
 ny who hear you are enemies to the country.' Mr. Mur- 
 ray 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 de- 
 fence of my persuasion.' ' I have heard enough, I neither 
 believe, nor like it.^ ' Well, sir, there is no act of assem- 
 bly to compel you to hear; but you should remember your 
 neighbor is entitled to equal liberty with yourself.' ' 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 eneinies of this country. I demand that they be 
 pointed out. If I associate with an individual of this des- 
 cription, it is unknown to me.' A gentleman at the chair- 
 man'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 ques- 
 tions of him.' The chairman then repeated, that the town 
 was very uneasy, and advised Mr. Murray to depart to 
 prevent further trouble: to which he answered. ' Sir, I 
 nave 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 sus- 
 pected, because I associate with many 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, which this committee ought 
 to consider as reprehensible. I am not acquainted with a 
 single individual who appears to be an enemy to this coun- 
 try : two or three worthy characters I know, who do not 
 perfectly approve every measure which has been adopted. 
 
LIFE or REV. JOHN MURRAY. 3i# 
 
 I have recently endeavored to recollect how many gentle- 
 men, the circle of my connexions from Maryland to New 
 Hampshire contained,, who were suspected of being un- 
 friendly 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, 1 
 rejoice in the reflection, that i nm a staunch friend to lib- 
 erty, genuine liberty. It is well known that I have labor- 
 ed to promote the cause of this country, and I rejoice that 
 I have not labored in vain. I am so well known, and I 
 have the happiness to be so well respected, that his Ex- 
 cellency, General Washington, appointed me to officiate 
 as chaplain to several regiments. 1 should have imagined 
 this fact would have been sufficient credentials here. 
 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 k>stj and now redeemed 
 world.' A member of the committee observed, 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 answer- 
 ed: ' Sir, I feci such a consciousness of innocence here, 
 that I know not what it is to fear. It is with perfect 
 composure that I commit myself to God, and the laws of 
 this Commonwealth. 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 permission 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 con.ceive the God of 
 Heaven is the only Ruler in Heaven above, and in Earth 
 beneath' — and, addressing the chair, he added: 'Sir, I, 
 have answered every question you have thought proper 
 to ask — and as I find it difficult to speak, I am so very ill, 
 I will take leave to wish you a good evening. Gentlemen 
 good night'— when, without interruption he departed. 
 
220 LIFE OF REV. JOHK MURRAY. 
 
 Alas! alas! how tyrannical is the dominion of prejti4 
 dice ! in this instance it precipitated men, respectable men, 
 who in the common occurrences of life, had uniformly 
 preserved a decent reputation, upon a procedure the most 
 absurd and unwarrantable. Interrogations so unceremo- 
 niously made to a person, who, as the almoner of his God, 
 had the preceding year, fed large numbers of their almost* 
 famished poor, who had never committed any act of 
 violence, or discovered the smallest 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 Avorshipped he the God of 
 his fathers; he could not therefore be allowed to merit 
 either confidence or gratitude. 
 
 On the Christmas day of 1780, Mr. Murray first preach- 
 ed in a small neat building, erected for his use, by the- 
 Gloucesterians. His adherents, associated for public 
 worship, had, as they believed, organized themselves, and 
 solemnly covenanting together, they conceived themselves 
 an INDEPENDENT CHURCH of Chrtst. 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 professed to acknowl- 
 edge, as Christians, no Master but Jesus Christ, receiving 
 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 obedi- 
 ence to every ordinance of man, to be peaceable and obedi- 
 ent 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 conscien- 
 ces; they rejoiced in the liberty wherewith 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 unne- 
 cessary disputation ; and, should they be reviled, to en- 
 deavor in patience to possess their souls. We make 
 from this solemn instrument the following extract. 
 
 ' As an INDEPENDENT CHURCH OF Christ thus bouud 
 together by the cords of his love, and meeting together in 
 His name, we mutually agree to receive as oui' Minister 
 that is, our servant, sent to labor amongst us, in the work 
 of the Gospel, by the great Lord of the Yineyard, 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. it$$ 
 
 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 de- 
 clared; 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; when- 
 ever it shall please his and our divine Master, to call him 
 to preach the everlasting Gospel 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 conscious 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 de- 
 servedly 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 coun- 
 sel. They rejoiced in the liberty of free inquiry, guar- 
 anteed by the strong arm of government; and they felic- 
 itated themselves, that they had been ushered into being at 
 a time, when that fearful period had gone by, which arming 
 the Religionists with the potent vengeance of civil authori- 
 ty, 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 preceding 
 era; whence arose an awful chasm in the history of the 
 world and men ceased to think because thinking was a 
 crime. The Gloucesterians adopted the idea of a respecta- 
 ble writer, who considered Ordination as nothing more 
 than the solemn putting a man into his place, and office 
 in the Church, a right to which he had obtained by previ- 
 ous election, which, together with his voluntary acceptance 
 
222 LIFE, OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 of such election, became a legitimate base, upon which 
 was founded the relationship between pastor and flock. 
 Thus, as the word ordAj^n signifies no more than to ap- 
 point, they conceived that the election, and not the laying 
 on of hands, completed the ordination. Reposing upon 
 tlie second and third article in the declaration of rights, 
 the Gloucesterians exultingly said: 'No subject shall be 
 hurt, molested, or restrained in his person, liberty, or es- 
 tate, 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 reli- 
 gious worship. All religious societies shall, at all times, 
 have the exclusive right of electing their public teachers, 
 and of contracting with them for their support and main- 
 tenance. And all monies paid by the subject to the support 
 of public worship, shall, if he require it, be uniformly ap- 
 plied to the support of the public teacher or teachers of his 
 own religious slct or denomination, provided there be any 
 071 whose instruction he attends.'' But while the Glouces- 
 terians were confidingly singing a requiem to their cares, 
 they beheld, to their great astonishment, and no small 
 dismay, their goods seized by an officer, and sold at auc- 
 tion, for the purpose of answering the demands of the es- 
 tablished minister. Articles 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 took 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 allowing or accepting contributions; and, to be con- 
 sidered a prosecutor for monies, said to be due to him, 
 for preaching the gospel which he had determined to pro- 
 mulgate /ree as the light of heaven! the very idea was a 
 stab to his long cherished feelings; it appeared to him 
 like prostrating the integrity of his character, and strip- 
 ping him of those honors, which he had fondly hoped 
 would remain forever unshorn. The situation of his 
 mind, upon this occasion, may be gathered from two ex- 
 tracts of letters, addressed to him by a respetcable gentle- 
 man : ' You know the inducement I had to engage in this 
 cause was to be emancipated from the shackles of a ponti- 
 ficate ! and my aversion was ever determined, from having 
 the suit brought in your name, as well from your abhor- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 22ft 
 
 rence as that the result, however favorable, would noc 
 establish us upon the broad base of genuine freedom. 
 However, I am now convinced from reflection, that our 
 cause will be ruined, unless you assume it. Mr. Hitch- 
 borne 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. Pyn- 
 chon (allowed on all hands to be deeply versed in the in- 
 tricacies of the law) assured a gentleman, he would war- 
 rant 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 descrip- 
 tive 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 I be condemned for being of an unsteady 
 disposition, or shall I be justified in my change of senti- 
 ment, from the variety of events.'' Be it as it may, it mat- 
 ters not; your letter has produced another alteration in 
 my mind; your conflict between the resolution you have 
 taken, and the interest of your friends, which, I am per- 
 suaded, 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 poin^ 
 of view it ceases to b.e a question. Let the idea of inter- 
 est perish; I had rather a large part of mine, dear as it 
 is, should be wrested from me, than that you should sac- 
 rifice any portion of your peace or your honor; therefore, 
 I entreat you, my dear sir, do no violence to your feel- 
 ings. 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 expect, that this 
 world is opposed to the other. Justice, however, notwith- 
 standing my sympathy for you, urges me to repeat that 
 our lawyers see no rational prospect of success, but from 
 your becoming a principal 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.* 
 
m^ 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 The preacher, under the direction of many importuning- 
 fi'iends, loaned his name, which step was to him a perma- 
 nent subject of regret. Trials succeeded trials, review 
 after review, at Salem, and at the supreme judicial court, 
 held at Ipswich, 17S3, 1784, and 1785. 
 
 The pleaders seemed an invincible phalanx, and the 
 mind-bending eloquence of the honorable Mr. King was 
 indeed a most potent aid. Men characterized the oratory 
 of that gentleman, as persuading commanding, and like 
 an irresistible torrent, bearing down every obstacle. 
 Many of the senior advocates seemed so to feel, and ac- 
 knowledge 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 de- 
 pending of the greatest intricacy and magnitude, to bo 
 plead before the first tribunal in the world, he would pre- 
 fer Mr. King as his advocate, to any man he had ever 
 heard speak. Previous, however, to the adjudication of' 
 1785, when a verdict in favor of the plaintiffs, by the suf- 
 frage 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 supported by, Mr. afterwards Governor Sullivan, 
 and Judge Tudor. The late Chief Justice Parsons, and 
 Mr. Bradbury were counsel for the defendants. The Glou- 
 cesterians, in their appeal to the ' impartial public,' perti- 
 nently observed that the decision of the question agitated 
 respecting them ultimately involved every citizen of the 
 commonwealth, and instantly affected the several relig- 
 ious orders of Episcopalians, Baptists. Presbyterians, 
 Sandemanians, Quakers, and every other denomination 
 of Christians, who, in this state, were called sectaries* 
 
 * The following extract from the Modem History of Universalism, a 
 work which ought to be in the hands of all who feel interested in the 
 cause of truth, may not be unacceptable to the reader. 
 
 ' This case was kept in court for a long time. Trial succeeded trial, 
 and review followed review, at Salem and at Ipswich, in 1783, and 
 1784, and 1785. In the fall of the latter year a writ of review was 
 again served, but the final decision was deferred until June 1786, when 
 a verdict was given in favor of Mr. Murray. The conduct of Judge 
 Dana attracted particular notice. The view he had taken of the case 
 in former trials was unfavorable to the plaintiff; but a revolution had 
 passed in his mind. When he noticed that article in the Constitution 
 which directs that monies may be applied by each person to teachers 
 of his own religious sect, he said the whole cause depended upon the 
 construction of that clause. He had before been of opinion it meant 
 teachers of bodies corporate ; he then thought otherwise ; as the Con- 
 stitution was meant for a liberal purpose, its construction should be of 
 a most liberal kind ; it meant, in this instance, teachets of any persua- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 226 
 
 Upon the objection, that their teacher was not a preach- 
 er of piety, religion, and morality, they mildly observed: 
 They were not convinced that the question could be deter- 
 mined from a revision of the motives he offered as to the 
 rewards which are to be bestowed, or punishments inflict- 
 ed in another world ; they rather supposed it should be de- 
 cided 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 Preserver. 
 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 conceived, that the idea that 
 it was necessary to the good order of government, that 
 the teachers of religion should thunder out the doctrine of 
 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 with- 
 out any warrant from reason or revelation. Reason, 
 without the aid of revelation, gave no intimation of a state 
 of retribution beyond the grave : and the gospel brought 
 life and immortality to light; nor said they, was it until 
 the Christian church was 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 juries are authorized to determine, whether the teach- 
 er of a religious sect is a teacher of morality, from his 
 opinion either of the cause, mode, or state of men's happi- 
 ness or misery in another world, or from his opinion of 
 the nature, or proportions of the rewards for virtue, orthe 
 punishments for vice in a future state, no sect or denomi- 
 nation could be safe, it being a matter resting on opinion 
 only, without any earthly tribunal having 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 
 
 ^ion whatever Jew or Mahometan. It would be for the Jury to deter- 
 mine, if Mr. Murray was a teacher of piety, religion and morality ; that 
 inatter, he said, had in his opinion been fully proved. The only ques- 
 tion, 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 declared, ' that Mr. Murray comes within the 
 description of the Constitution, and has a right to require the money.' 
 Having been out all night, the jury returned a verdict in the morning 
 in favor of the plaintiff.' 
 
,226 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 might be one, who subscribed and sworn to the thirty-nine 
 articles, the truth of which is well supported by act ofparlia- 
 ^nent: an objection might be made trom 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 demer- 
 it 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 eternity, and nothing done by him can in any 
 wise change the divine decree, 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 foreordination 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 honor of the Most High, to suppose any thing to be con- 
 tingent with Him ; and therefore a teacher of such princi- 
 ples might in the eye of some persons be viewed as a teach- 
 er of impiety and immorality. From these and various 
 other considerations, the Gloucesterians humbly conceived, 
 that religion was a matter between an individual and his 
 God ; that no man had a right to dictate a mode of worship 
 to another ; that, in that respect, every man stood upon a 
 perfect equality ; and they believed that the paucity of 
 their numbers, and the prejudices of their enemies, had 
 pointed them out as proper objects for the first essay of 
 religious tyranny ; hence they rather chose to seek redress 
 from the great law, made by the people to govern the 
 Legislature, than from the Legislature itself; believing 
 they should betray the freedom of their country, if they 
 timidly shrunk fi'om 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 was again served, and the final decision was 
 referred, and deferred, until the June of 1786, when a 
 conclusive verdict was obtained in favor 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 emanci- 
 pation of his adherents. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. SOV 
 
 * 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 elo- 
 quence, 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 understood; 
 but the remaining three have acquired a glory which will 
 be as lasting as time. The conduct of Judge Dana at- 
 tracted particular notice. You remember he heretofore 
 labored against us; there appeared a disposition to travers 
 our counsil; in his comments on the constitution, those 
 parts which made for us, he turned against us; he assert- 
 ed the tax was not persecuting, but legal; religious socie- 
 ties were bodies corporate, or meant to be so; sect and 
 denomination were promiscuously 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 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 de- 
 scription of the constitution, and had a right to require the 
 money. ' It is my opinion,' he decidedly declared, * that 
 Mr. Murray comes within the description of the constitu- 
 tion, 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. Thursday morning they came in again, declaring 
 their unanimous agreement, that the judgment obtained 
 
228 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 the preceding year was in nothing errorieous. Thus have 
 we gained our cause, after trials of such expectation 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 Sermons. 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-laborer, Mr. Noah Parker, 
 the propriety of an annual meeting of the heralds of re- 
 demption ; 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 description; and the longer I deliberate, 
 the more I am convinced of the utility 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 mdisposed, I am com- 
 mencing a journey to Oxford, 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 the 
 liberty, wherewith the constitution has made us free. On 
 my return, I shall communicate to you the result of our 
 meeting.' Upon the close of the same month of Septem- 
 ber, he thus writes: 'Well, I have been to Oxford, and 
 the assembly convened there was truly primitive. We 
 deliberated, first, on a name; secondly, on the propriety 
 of being united in our common defence; 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 the particulars are to be 
 laid before 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, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. $90 
 
 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 subject.' 
 
 Thus was a -feonvention 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, 
 f which destroyed his pleasure in the association. Yet, in 
 the last stage of his pilgrimage, he frequently regretted, 
 pthat his attendance upon this convention had not been 
 more uniform; 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 himself 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 it could be dedicated by the peace-speaking voice of 
 the promulgator. In the course of the autumn or winter 
 of 1785, the Bostonians purchased a meeting-house in 
 Bennet-street. This house they enlarged and beautified; 
 here Mr. Murray was occasionally their officiating minis- 
 ter. 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 prosecution was commenced against their preacher, for 
 performing the marriage 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 nuptial vows of as many among his adherents, as, 
 furnished with the requisite certificates, made application 
 to him for this purpose. A single 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 perform- 
 ed the marriage ceremony. 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 Legislature could be obtained; and 
 20 
 
230 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAT. 
 
 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 Ameri- 
 can connexions, on the 6th of January, 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 philanthropist; who, like his God, delighted in speak- 
 ing peace to the sons and daughters of adversity. Dear 
 sympathizing friend of man ! 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 munificent. 
 
 During Mr. Murray's absence, the Legislature was ad- 
 dressed. We regret that we cannot exhibit a complete 
 copy of the petitions which were presented, but such ex- 
 tracts, as we can command, we transcribe; 
 
 ' To the honorable Senate, and the House of Represen- 
 tatives of the commonwealth of Massachusetts, assembled 
 in Boston, in February, 1788; John Murray, of Glouces- 
 ter, in the county of Essex, would humbly represent to 
 your Honors that about seventeen years ago, he came in- 
 to this country which he considered as the assylum of re- 
 ligion 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, distinguished themselves by their 
 uniform attachment to the message, and the messenger; 
 and after your petitioner had occasionally labored among 
 them, for a considerable time, they associated together, as 
 an Independent church, built a meeting-house, and invi- 
 ted your petitioner to reside 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 labored amongst, as their ordained minister, and 
 though your petitioner has, on sundry occasions, visited; 
 and labored 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 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHW MURRAY. ^^ 
 
 minister. It also appears, that the people, among whom 
 your petitioner has t'requently labored, have considered 
 jjim iu the same light j 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 aji or- 
 dained minister In thg strictest sense of the word, and ac- 
 cording to the letter and spirit of the law, was the verdict 
 ^iven in favor of him and his people, by the Honorable 
 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, demanded a 
 review; after which review, the former verdict was con- 
 firmed by the full, and decided opinion of the honorable 
 court given in their favor. 
 
 ' Being thus by constitutional right, and legal decision, 
 established as an independent minister, settled with, and 
 ordained by, the joint surffiages of the members of that Re- 
 ligious Society, your petitioner supposed his troubles from 
 his persecuting enemies were at an end. And upon con- 
 sulting council learned in the law, who gave it as their de- 
 cided opinion that he was an ordained minister, he pro- 
 ceeded to perform the ceremon}"^ of marriage to such of 
 his hearers, who made application to him for that purpose. 
 But some of his opponents, unacquainted with the inde- 
 pendent mode of ordination, and presuming your petition- 
 er was not ordained, because the rrAne ceremonies were 
 not made use of in his ordination, to the use of which they 
 were accustomed, brought the question of your petition- 
 er'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 
 sulfiiciently notorious. Your petitioner, and the people 
 who ordained hi;'.', conceived his ordination was suffici- 
 ently notorious, as the article was subscribed by every 
 member of the society; and the honorable court consider- 
 ed him a public teacher of Piety, Religion, and Morality. 
 Tho recent adjudication of the honorable Judges has in- 
 volved your petitioner's little flock, in Gloucester, in ex- 
 pense, and exquisite distress; and your petitioner is ruin- 
 ed, unless your honors 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 
 
2S2 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 he has performed, since he has conceived himself the or- 
 dained minister oftiiat people, w^hich must involve his 
 friends in expense, or consign him to a gaol. Nor is this 
 all; supposing his ordination invalid, he is, by the letter 
 of the law, liable to ignominious punishment. Now, as 
 equity is said to be that interference of the supreme pow- 
 er, which alleviates, where the law, by being too compre- 
 hensive, 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 hin« ordained, as much 
 as an Episcopalian, or any other teacher, however differ- 
 ent the modo of ordination, he most humbly prays your 
 honors, to idemnify him for any further prosecution, for 
 any marriage he may have solemnized, under his suppos- 
 ed right; and by this means rescue him from the perse- 
 cuting power of his malignant adversaries, restore the 
 exercise of religious rites to his oppressed, and afflicted 
 people, establish in the Commonwealth, in which he has 
 long had his residence, that peace which has been broken 
 by the malice of his enemies. Your petitioner would in 
 person have waited on such committee of your honors, as 
 might be appointed to consider this petition, but his well 
 grounded fears that prosecutions would be multiplied up- 
 on him, by the zeal of his religious adversaries, has neces- 
 itated him to absent himself from the country of his adop- 
 tion, and his dear people, until such time as the clemency 
 of your honors might be obtained in his behalf.' 
 
 The congregation in Gloucester, addressed the Legis- 
 lature in a separate 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 waR 
 laid upon the speakers table, whence it was drawn forth 
 by the speaker of the House, James Warren, Esq., accep- 
 ted by a handsome majority, and sent up to the Senate for 
 concurrence. The report was called up from the Presi- 
 dent's table, by the Honorable Mr Dalton, when after a 
 debate of two hours, it passed the Senate, almost unani- 
 mously. This most acceptable result was made known to 
 the deeply interested Gloucesterians, by a writing, of 
 which the following is a verbatim copy : 
 
 COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS. 
 
 In the House of Representatives, March ilth, 1788. 
 Whereas John Murray, and others, have represented 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 2S8 
 
 to this court, that the said Murray, esteeming himself le- 
 gally qualified, had solemnized certain marriages, and that 
 by a decision had in the Superior Judicial Court, it was 
 determined that the said Murray had no such authority, 
 praying that he may be idemnified. Resolved, that the 
 said John Murray, be, and he hereby is, indemnified from 
 all pains, and penalties, which he may have incurred on 
 account of having solemnized any marriages, as aforesaid, 
 for which there has not been any prosecution commenced, 
 or had; and the said Murray may, upon trial for any of the 
 offences aforesaid, give this resolution, in evidence, upon 
 the general issue, which shall have the same operation 
 as if specially pleaded. 
 
 Sent up for concurrence. James Warren, Speaker. 
 In Senate, March ^7tk 1788. 
 
 Read and concurred. Samuel Adams, President. 
 Approved, JOHN HANCOCK. 
 
 True copy; attest, 
 John Avery, Jun., Secretary. 
 
 Meantime, the persecuted, and now nobly redressed 
 promulgator was speeding across the gr^at 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 coasts of Corn- 
 wall, than had ever before been known, in any one 
 season. At length, however, the Chalky Cliffs of hie 
 native shore met his gladdened view, and the heaven- 
 protected vessel cast anchor in the commodious harbor of 
 Falmouth. Mr. Murray was an entire stranger to this 
 part of England; but, by the Bostonians and Glouceste- 
 rians, he had been furnished with recommendatory letters, 
 thus worded: 
 
 'We, the Subscribers, members of the Christian Inde- 
 pendent 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 labored 
 among us, in this place, much to the edification, and con- 
 solation 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 
 20* 
 
284 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 bring him back to his numerous friends, richly laden with 
 the blessings of the Gospel of peace.' 
 
 ' Signed by the mo.it respectable members of the 
 Church.' 
 
 Gloucester, January 4th, 1788. 
 
 * Be it known universally, that We the elders, on 
 behalf of the Independent Church of Christ in Gloucester, 
 do certify that the bearer, Mr. John Murray, is, and 
 has been for many years past, our ordained minister^ 
 and we pray God to preserve him, and return him to us io 
 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 connexion with Mr. Whitefield^ 
 was thrown open to him, Avhere he preached forenoon 
 and afternoon, and continued delivering evening lecture? 
 until February 14, when he resumed his journey by land, 
 to London, proclaiming glad tiding* 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-honoring, man-restoring message. Several clergy- 
 men always attended his lectures, 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 the Jewish High Priest, the 1st Psalm, the 
 89th Psalm, Zechariah ix. 9, 1st John, 4, and many 
 passages drawn from Isaiah, and the Epistles of the 
 Apistles 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 jour- 
 nal 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 ac- 
 quaintance, not seen nor heard of for a great number of 
 years, while the fascinating choristers, in whom I have 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. ^5 
 
 taken so much delight, seem by their cheering notes, to wel- 
 come me as I pass along their native fields and hegdgee. 
 The primroses, and a variety of other sweet flowers, are 
 already in full bloom j in short,every thing wears a cheerful 
 appearance. How grateful ought I to be to the Author of 
 every good, who, in this dear country, follows me with the 
 same loving kindness and tender mercy, with which he 
 followed me in the dear country, I have left. The numer- 
 ous 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 ex- 
 pressions of admiration of the gracious words, which God 
 enables me to utter, in like manner as did the good Glou- 
 cesterian Elder, Mr. Warner, on my first visit to that 
 place. We mingle our supplications and addresses our 
 thanksgiving and our praises, and our hearts burn within 
 usj 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 gosf)el of God our Saviour, 
 any where ; but I will leave those dear people to draw 
 their 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 
 friendly religious people. May God grant them peace, 
 and give them abundant consolation in believing. The 
 people every where hear with American attention. 
 Clergymen, wherever I sojourn, are generally my hosts. 
 Gospel unadulterated gospel is pleasant to the believing 
 soul ; I content myself with showing that man is lost by 
 sin; that the law is the ministration 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 endeavor 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 clergymen attend me in 
 my progress; no less than seven have been among my audi- 
 ence 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 
 
^M LIFE or REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 dd 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 his time was most delightfully passed in the 
 service of God the Saviour. Upon one occasion, his en- 
 trance into one spacious place of worship was hailed by the 
 musical choir devoutly chanting: 
 
 * Blow ye the trumpet, blow 
 
 The gladly solemn sound, ':> 
 
 Let all the nations know, 
 
 To earth's remotest bound, 
 The year of Jubilee is come, 
 Return, ye ransomed sinners home.' 
 
 Yet, even in this short visit to his native island, the pro- 
 mulgator 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 at- 
 tended upon him here with inexpressible delight; three such 
 sermons as he has delivered, my ears never before heard; 
 such a preacher never before appeared 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 thfe love of God .' But the following 
 adtertisement appeared in a London paper : 
 
 * Mr. Murray is an American, the most popular preach- 
 ed' in the United States. In the conclusion of one of his 
 sermons, preached on that continent he endeavored to 
 enforce with all the powers of eloquence, the necessity of 
 establishing in those States the same Olympic games, which 
 Were for many ages esatblished among the Grecians.' Bui 
 this was not all; it was storied, that he had left America in 
 consequence 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 re- 
 joiced in the presence of her son. In London, and at 
 Hamstead, 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 
 Mm' as 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 journied to Portsmoutk 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. iPf 
 
 for the purpose of being in readiness to commence his re- 
 turn 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, preaching frequently. On his first lecture, he was 
 solicited by a doctor Miller to accompany him to his habi- 
 tation, 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 
 clergyman, 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 preachers responses are contained in the vol- 
 umes of Letters and Sketches of Sermons. 
 
 Mr. Murray proceeded to Cowes, upon the isle of Wight, 
 and from thence embarking for America, commenced his 
 Toyage with a fair wind, which soon changing, they were 
 under the necessity of dropping anchor in Portland harbor, 
 where they were long wind bound. His passage was un- 
 commonly protracted; but, fortunateily, the passengers uni- 
 ted to give it every charm of which society is susceptible; 
 and, when we add, that our late respectable President, the 
 Honorable John Adams and Lady were of the nuniber, 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 teacher, every Sunday, and accordingly the ship's 
 company, and the passengers, were, upon this holy day, 
 collected round him. His first subject was the third com- 
 mandment. 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 congrat- 
 ulating, and most aflTectionate friends. A summons from 
 the Governor 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 Gloucester! ans, determining no more to hazard in- 
 vidious persecution, and its train of evils appointed a day, 
 
233 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 the Christmas of 1789, on \vhich to renew, the ordination 
 of their pastor; and, after assembling, and effectuating 
 their purpose, that they might bestow upon the solemft 
 transaction all possible publicity, they procured its inser- 
 tion in the Centinel of January 3d, 1789, from which 
 paper we transcribe it verbatim : 
 
 ' Last Thursday week, Mr. John Murray was ordained 
 to the pastoral charge of the independant 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, preserv- 
 ing 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 aparti 
 and ordain me, to be your Minister I now again, with 
 humble gratitude to my divine Master, and grateful affec- 
 tion for you, my long tried and faithful christian friends 
 and brethren, most cdrdially accept of this call.' 
 
 One of the Committee then read the vote of the Church : 
 ^ Resolved, that we, the proprietors of the Independent 
 Meeting-House in Gloucester, the members of the church 
 and congregation usually attending 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 arti- 
 cle of the declaration of rights, in this public manner, 
 solemnly elect and ordain, constitute and appoint Mr. 
 John Murray, of said Gloucester, clerk, to be our settled 
 Minister, Pastor, and teaching Elder; to preach the word 
 of God, and to inculcate lessons and instructions of piety, 
 religion, and morality, on the congregation; and to do, 
 perform and discharge all the duties and offices, which of 
 right belong to any other minister of the Gospel, or pub- 
 lic teacher of Piety, Religion, and Morality; and it is 
 hereby intended, and understood, that the authority and 
 rights hereby given to the said Mr. John Murray, to bp 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 289 
 
 our settled, ordained Ministerj and public teacher, are to 
 remain in fhll force, so long as he shall continue to preach 
 the word of God, and dispense instructions of piety reli- 
 gion and morality, conformable 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 as a solemn seal of your ordi- 
 nation to the ministry of the New Testament; and the sole 
 directory of your faith and practi(;e.' His acceptance 
 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 inheritance: as the uner- 
 ring 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 con- 
 solation. 1 thank you, most sincerely do I 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. 
 Murray, from Luke v. 2, succeeded. The harvest is 
 great, but the laborers are few, &c. &c. 
 
 * The solemnity, attention, and christian demeanor, 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 rolled 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 connex- 
 ions, 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. 
 
•W LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 To THE President of the United States. 
 
 The Address of the Convention of the Universal Church, 
 assembled in Philadelphia. 
 
 *Sir: 
 
 ' Permit us in the name of the Society which we repre- 
 Fent, to concur in the numerous congratulations which 
 have been offered to you, since your accession to the gov- 
 ernment of the United States. 
 
 ' For an account of our principles, we beg leave to re- 
 fer you to the pamphlet, which we have now the honor of 
 putting into your hands. In this publication it will appear, 
 that the peculiar doctrine whi6h we hold is not less friend- 
 ly to the order and happiness of society, than it is essen- 
 tial to the perfection of the Deity, It is a singular cir- 
 cumstance in the history of this doctrine, that it has been 
 preached and defended in every age since the first pro- 
 mulgation 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 con- 
 nect 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 affectionate fellow 
 citizens, in thanks to Almighty God, for the last of his 
 numerous signal acts of goodness to our country, in pre- 
 serving your valuable life, in a late dangerous indisposi- 
 tion, and we assure you. Sir that duty will not prompt us, 
 more than affectiDn, 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 Eugene Imley* 
 
 President's Reply 
 
 ' To the Ceweefition of the Universal Chu/rchj lately as- 
 sembled in Philadelphia. 
 
 * Gentlemen: 
 ' I thank you, cordially, for the congratulations, which 
 you offer on my apointment to the office I have the honor 
 to hold in the government of the United States. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 241 
 
 * 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. 1 am also happy in finding this dispo- 
 sition jsarhcw/ar/y 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 favored, 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 affec- 
 tionate fellow citizens have taken in my recovery from a 
 late dangerous indisposition. And I assure you. Gentle- 
 men, that in mentioning my obligations for the effusions 
 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 re- 
 spect, best comport with the character of an intelligent 
 and accountable being. 
 
 'G. WASHINGTON.' 
 
 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 Bostonians 
 were solicitous to hail the preacher, as their settled pastor; 
 and it was certain his usefulness would, in the metropolis, 
 be more extensive. A partial separation from the Glou- 
 cesterians was, by mutual consent, 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 exi- 
 gence; and the distance being no more than an easy ride 
 of a few hours, the adjustment was accomplished without 
 much difficulty. Yet did the preacher continue dissatis- 
 fied, 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, 
 Ifvhom he had induced, by his representations, to unite 
 with him in his American mission, is a gentleman of great 
 respectability, of the purest morals, and high in the ranks 
 of integrity. Mr. Jones was e<lucated at the college, es- 
 tablished bv the Countess of Huntington; in which con- 
 21 
 
242 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 nexion he continued, 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 Glou- 
 cesterians love and respect their pastor and, their una- 
 nimity is unbroken. They have erected a new and 
 elegant house of worship. In Salem also, and in Ports- 
 mouth and Charlestown, in New York, and in Philadel- 
 phia, commodious buildings are reared to the honor of 
 God our Saviour. 
 
 On Wednesday, 23d of October, 1793, the installation 
 of Mr. Murray, took place in the Universal Meeting-house 
 in Boston; the Presiding 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 worshipping in this place, in the 
 choice of Mr. John Murray for their Pastor 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 follow- 
 ed an appropriate prayer by Mr. Murray.) After which, 
 the Deacon demanded of the church and congregation, as 
 they had heretofore expressed their desire, that Mr. Mur- 
 ray should become their Pastor, and Teacher, if, at this 
 time, they continued of that mind, they would publicly con- 
 firm it, by vote — which was unanimous. He then requested 
 Mr. Murray's answer, which being given in the affirma- 
 tive, he concluded his address : ' 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 Chijrch in Boston; and in their name I present 
 unto you the Sacred Volume, as the rule of your faith 
 • and practice, and as containing a perfect and complete 
 revelation of the perfections and will of God : and I fur- 
 thermore declare unto you, that so long as you continue 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 of Immanuel, so long you shall be considered 
 as our Pastor, and no longer. And now, dearly beloved 
 Sir, ^ I charge thee, therefore, before God and the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. Q4S 
 
 His Appearing, and His Kingdom; to Preach the Word, 
 be instant in Season, out of Season; Reprove, Rebuke, 
 Exhort, with' all long Suffering, and Doctrine. In all 
 things showing thyself a Pattern of Good Works: In 
 Doctrine showing IJncorrupiness, Gravity, Sincerity, 
 Sound Speech that cannot be condemned; that he that is 
 of the contrary part, may be ashamed, having no Evil 
 thing to say of you. Jl Workman that needeth not to be 
 Ashamed, Rightly Dividing the word of Truth.'' And 
 now, sir, coinmending you with the Church and Congre- 
 gation, over which the Holy Ghost hath made you Over- 
 seer, to the care and protection of Him ' that lovecC us and 
 washed us from our sins in His own blood,'' earnestly be- 
 seeching Him to build us all up in unity of the One 
 Spirit, and in the bond of peace. Now unto Him who 
 is abundantly able to perform all these things for us, and 
 to present us all faultless before the throne of an Infi- 
 nite Majesty, be all honor, glory, dominion and power, 
 throughout the ages of time, and a wasteless eternity, 
 Amen.' 
 
 Mr. Murray's reply was animated and replete with af- 
 fection; after which, a hymn was performed by the choir 
 of singers, accompanied by the organ. Next, an excel- 
 lent 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 Gospel.' A collection for the distressed inhabit- 
 ants of Philadelphia succeeded the sermon, and an an- 
 them suited to the solemnities of the occasion was most 
 admirably chanted. The whole was conducted with strict 
 decorum, to the satisfaction of a v€ry numerous, respect- 
 able, and attentive audience. 
 
 Perhaps no congregation were ever more unanimous, 
 and more perfectly satisfied with the pastor of their elec- 
 tion, 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 
 congregation might truly be said to worship the Most 
 High in the beauty of, holiness. The ordinance of the 
 Lord's Supper was administered agreeably to their ideas 
 of its genuine import. Parents brought their children in- 
 to the great congregation, standing in the broad aisle, in 
 the presence of the worshippers of God ; the father re- 
 ceived the babe from the hands of the mother, and pre- 
 sented it to the servant of God ; who, deriving his author- 
 ity for this practice from the example of his Redeemer, 
 
244 ^I^E O^ "R-I^V. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 who saySj ' suffer little children to come unto me,' &-c. 
 &c., pronounced aloud the name of the child, and receiv- 
 ed 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 belongest, to be baptized with his own bap- 
 tism, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of 
 the Holy Ghost ; and we pronounce upon thee that bless- 
 ing, 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 cause His face 
 to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; The Lord 
 lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace. ^ 
 
 The preacher, however, never surrendered the persua- 
 sion, that he was sent out to preach the gospel, and his 
 visits to his far distant friends were frequently repeated; 
 yet these visits were always made by the assenting voice 
 of the society, and he regarded every individual, congrega- 
 ted under his directing auspices, as in an essential and sol- 
 emn sense, his children. A gentleman, attending in tie 
 church in Bennet-street, addressing Mr Murray by letter, 
 thus observes: ' I was very much pleasqd at your meeting; 
 the orderly, respectable, and serious demeanor of your so- 
 ciety; their silent and fixed attention upon you, penetrated 
 me with sentiments of attachment and satisfaction, and 1 
 forbore not to invoke the providence of God, that no fro- 
 ward, or adverse spirit, should interrupt the harmony which 
 now so evidently subsists between you.' 
 
 Yes, it is indeed true, that Mr. Murray considered the 
 interest of the people of his charge as his own. Most 
 fondly did he cherish, and perseveringly did he seek, by 
 every possible means, to advance their reputation. 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, was the herald of consolation. Are there npt 
 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 lighting up a blissful 
 smile of anticipated felicity, amid the agonies of dissolving 
 nature. To the aged he delighted to administer consola- 
 tion; his presence gave a face of cheerfulness to those 
 social hours, which the numerous classes, with whom he 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. MH 
 
 mingled, were wont to appropriate to enjoyment. Chil- 
 dren lisped with infantile transport the name of the phi- 
 lanthropic preacher, and they were even eloquent in ex- 
 pressions of unfeigned attachment. The pleasures of 
 young people, if under the dominion of innocence, were 
 uniformly sanctioned by their preacher; and his appear- 
 ance 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, 
 wo do not know, that, through a series of revolving years, 
 the harmony subsisting between the minister and his con- 
 gregation, suffered either interruption or diminution. 
 This instance originated in political pertinacity. Party 
 spirit occasionally ran very high; and federal and demo- 
 cratic leaders were among the adherents of Mr. Murray. 
 A July Oration was to be delivered; much invidious dis- 
 quisition was afloat; but it is fruitless to delineate; suffice 
 it to say, that this oration, and its consequences, were 
 pregnant with anguish to an oft-stricken heart; but' bless- 
 ed be God, the threatening aspect of affairs, which seem- 
 ed to gather darkness, was soon dispersed, and the sun of 
 righteousness seemed to break forth, with renewed splen- 
 dor. 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 persons of the warmest feelings, 
 and strongest prejudices, depositing every dissenting, ev- 
 ery foreign sentiment, at the foot of the cross, meeting, 
 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 of 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 tremen- 
 dous stroke of the fell destroyer. 
 
 21* 
 
246 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER Yim ^tflij^ 
 
 Record continued from October, 1809, to September, 1815,^<' 
 
 including the closing scene. ^ 
 
 Portentously the dense, dark cloud arose ; 
 
 Long was the night; surcharged with clust'ring woes; 
 
 But, blest Religion^ robed in spotless white, ,,, ^ 
 
 With torch of faith, pointing to realms of light, 
 
 Marched splendid on ; wide o'er the brightening way, *■*; 
 
 Leading the saint to never-ending day. <>),■ 
 
 It was upon the nineteenth day of October, one thou-vo 
 sand eight hundred and nine, that the fatal blow was giv- 
 en to a life so valuable, so greatly endeared, so truly pre- 
 cious; but, although the corporeal powers of the long 
 a»jtive preacher became so far useless, as to render him as 
 helpless as a new-born babe; although he was indeed a 
 complete cripple, yet the saint still lingered; was still de- 
 tained by the all-wise decree of the Most High, a prisoner 
 in his clay-built tenement, nor did his complete beatifica- 
 tion take place until the Sabbath morning of September 
 8d, 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 Creator were still found upon 
 his tongue, and the goodness of his God continued his en- 
 during theme. Unwavering in his testimony, he repeat- 
 edly, 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 ex- 
 ist, 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 articu- 
 late : ' 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 confi- 
 dence 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- 
 inents, detached from intellect, are also dreams, and, like 
 the baseless fabric of a vision shall not leave a wreck be- 
 kind. But if my life have been a continued sleep, and 
 the greater part of my pains, and pleasures, dreams; yet, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 347 
 
 while this deep sleejwhas 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 impatience 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 patience, during six succeeding years, passed the 
 long summer mornings from the sun's early beams, in exam- 
 ining and re-examining the will of his august Father. 
 He had, through a long life, been conversant with a va- 
 riety of English authors. Poets, dramatic writers, essay- 
 ists, 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 advoca- 
 ted, 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 his confinement many respect- 
 able 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. 
 0ne clergyman questioned him respecting his then pres- 
 ent views, wishing to be ascertained if his faith were still 
 ifi exercise, if he were willing to depart, ' O yes, yes, yes,' 
 exclaimed the long-illumined christian, ' the glorious mani- 
 festations of divine love still brighten upon me. .Right 
 precious to my soul are the promises, the oath of Jeho- 
 vah; and, sir, so far from shrinking from my approach- 
 ing change, my only struggle is for patience to abide, un- 
 til the time appointed for my emancipation. I would cul- 
 tivate a humble, child-like resignation; but hope deferred, 
 doth indeed too often make the heart sick.' Another gen- 
 tleman 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 voyag- 
 ing to my native shores, where health, happiness, and 
 peace awaited me, borne onwards by gales the most pro- 
 
SElik LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 
 
 pitiouSj and supposing myself almost «in the moment of' 
 obtaining the long desired haven, when suddenly driven- 
 back by some adverse circumstance, instead of being 
 soothed by condolence, I am pierced to the soul by the dis- 
 cordant sounds of felicitations.' Yet, we repeat, the re- 
 vered teacher was in general astonishingly patient, resign- 
 ed, and even cheerflil. 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 conver- 
 sant with him, could not forbear observing, that the pro- 
 tracted 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 dig- 
 nified, than any other six years of his existence. A re- 
 spectable gentleman, not of his persuasion, but candid 
 and benign, remarked, that his character was elevated to 
 no common height; that his uncomplaining endurance of 
 suffering, and the unwavering steadfastness of his faith, 
 had stamped his testimony with the seal of integrity, and 
 gave that 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 illuminec. 
 by the presence oi 2i few fast friends ; and one sympathiz- 
 ing, 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 
 teacher the period of his kindness; his countenance, his 
 aid, his commisseration, his society, are still loaned to the 
 solitary, the bereaved family. Dear faithful man! May 
 the rich blessings of Almighty God rest upon thee and 
 thine, until thou hast finished thy mortal career, and may- 
 est thou, in the regions of blessedness, renew, with thy be- 
 loved teacher, that friendship which, while tenanted in 
 clay, thou hast so well known to appreciate. 
 
 To three other gentlemen, devoted adherents to the la- 
 mented deceased, warm acknowledgments are, also, most 
 righteously due. Their kind, and still continued atten- 
 tions, are gratifying proof of their attachment to him, who 
 was so dear to them, and gratitude hath, with mournful 
 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, unutter 
 able sorrow. Every thing seemed to point homeward to 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 24^ 
 
 the sky, and upon Lord's day morning, August twenty- 
 seventh, one thousand eight hundred and fifteen, at four 
 o'clock, an especial summons was despatched by the Most 
 High, to recall his long-tried servant; but alas! we did not 
 recognize the messenger; we rather believed, that the cir- 
 cumstances, which marked the acknowledged change, 
 would look with a friendly aspect upon the health of the 
 beloved man, during the succeeding autumn and winter; 
 but the honored sufferer himself, apparently better in- 
 formed, anticipatingly observed — ' Who knows, perhaps 
 the liberating hour is at hand;' and his feelings were al- 
 ways elated or depressed, in exact proportion as the mo- 
 ment 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 mortification, he trem- 
 ulously 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. Anoth- 
 er physician was called in, whose doubtful answers to 
 proposed questions created much alarm. He seemed to 
 consider nature as surrendering her ofiices. In the course 
 of Thursday, 31st, he repeatedly and earnestly said, ' I 
 cannot be sufficiently thankful to God, my Saviour, that 
 I suffer no pain, either of body or mind.' To a young 
 and tenderly interested friend, he smilingly observed, * I 
 am hastening through the valley of the shadow of death; 
 I am about to quit this distempered state; yet a little mo- 
 ment and I shall (be received into the city of the living 
 God, with the innumerable 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, remember,' he added, fixing his dying 
 eyes upon them, ' remember, that, however, tried in this 
 world, there is another and a better state of thmgs; and 
 that, although pierced in this vale of tears by the arrows 
 of unkindness and ingratitude, there is One who loveth 
 you, with an everlasting 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 supposed unquestionable, and from 
 
250 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 this hour, until Saturday evening, a little after sunset, he 
 continued, with few intervals, incoherently repeating the 
 most consolatory passages in the book of God. His right 
 hand was constantly in motion, and when any one ap- 
 proached, whatever might be the question, the answer 
 was ready. ' To Him,' said the expiring christian, 
 ' shall the gathering of the people be, and His rest shall be 
 glorious, glorious, glorious. 1 am blessed with all spiritual 
 blessings, in Christ Jesus. Nor I alone, Christ Jesus 
 hath tasted death for every man,'* &c. &c. These God 
 honoring, man-restoring truths, were audibly »»rticulated, 
 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 delirium? or, if it 
 were, was it not a delirium irradiated by the powerful in- 
 fluence of redeeming love? Did not the luminous truths, 
 upon which the noble, the capacious mind, had so long re- 
 posed, 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 speakj his right hand no longer waved, and he 
 continued in the same position, in which the enduring kind- 
 ness of his faithful assistant had placed him, until six o'clock, 
 Lord's-day morning, September third, one thousand eight 
 hundred 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 Sat- 
 urday, that he suffered the least pain except when an at- 
 tempt was made to move him. His breath grew shorter, 
 and shorter like the sweet sleep of a tired infant, until it 
 could no more be distinguished. He departed this life in 
 the seventy-fifth year of his age. 
 
 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 eman- 
 cipated spirit to the abodes of blessedness. 
 
 The interment could be deferred only until Monday 
 evening, September 4th. The ebbing attachment of cer- 
 tain individuals now reverted to its pristine channel. 
 Funeral honors were promtly and unanimously decreed. 
 The children of the society, distinguished by a badge of 
 mourning, preceded the body; along solemn, well ordered 
 and respectable procession followed the train of mourners; 
 private carriages were added to those appointed by the 
 
LIFK Of &EV. JOHN MURRAY, $51 
 
 society ; the body was deposited upon stands in the aisle 
 of the church j 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 adherents of the pro- 
 mulgator, and the arrears which would have been due to 
 the family, had the vote of March, 1815, been similamo 
 that of March 1814, were paid to a single farthing. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 ' And now the feverish dream of life is o'er.' 
 
 Had 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 admi- 
 ration too lavish. His colleague has been his eulogist, 
 and no friend of the deceased will pronounce the 
 panegyric an exaggeration. Perhaps it does not contain 
 a more just, or a more happy paragraph than the follow- 
 ing: ' Without a second to aid him, you saw him pass 
 along these shores from Maryland to New Hampshire, 
 like the lonely Pelican 0/ the wilderness, publishing as 
 with the voice of an angel, the tidings of everlasting life to 
 the whole world, in the name, and through the mission of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ,* 
 
 It has been said that persuasion dwelt upon the lips of 
 our philanthropist. The pages of recollection furnish 
 many instances of his powerful, and soul-subduing elo- 
 quence. We are impelled to select, from the fading 
 record, two facts which are well authenticated : — 
 
 A London mob had assembled in great force, with the 
 most destructive and murderous designs. Time-honored 
 edifices were to be demolished, 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 clamor; the efforts of peace 
 officers were fruitless, and the military was on the point 
 of being called into action, when Mr. Murray, returning 
 
252 LIPE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 from some religious meeting to his peaceful home, lound 
 himself in the midst of the infuriated rioters, and instantly 
 mounting a stand, which opportunely presented, he har- 
 rangued the lawless multitude ; and by soothing their 
 prejudices, addressing their passions, and pointing out the 
 only legitimate steps for the purpose of obtaining redress, 
 he first obtained silence, next softened and ameliorated 
 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 abili- 
 ties. 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 for the relief of the Bos- 
 tonians, suffering from the severe decrees of a British min- 
 istry. 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 adherents voting against it. It hap- 
 pened he was, on that day to dine at the house of a Doctor 
 
 B , one of the triumphant majority, with several 
 
 gentlemen on the same side of the question, when his pow- 
 erful animadversions, and reasoning upon the subject, 
 wrought so great a revolution, as to produce a reconsidera- 
 tion of the vote, and the motion for succoring the Bostoni- 
 ans, 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 vol- 
 umes; addressed to the private ear of those he best loved, 
 they ought to decide upon his opinions; 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 im- 
 provement of your understanding, and the formation of vir- 
 tuous principles. It cannot be doubted that the improve- 
 ment of the heart is esteemed by those to whom you are 
 most dear, beyond the most cultivated intellect. It is your 
 business to unite these estimable objects, your heart and 
 understanding should be emulous in pursuit of excellence. 
 Ethics, improved and elevated by the christian religion, be- 
 come the guides to real wisdom and solid happiness; these 
 they could never have attained in the schools of heathen 
 philosophy. It is not expected that you should thus early 
 
LIFE or REV. JOHN MURRAY. 258 
 
 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 bu- 
 siness is to open your heart for the reception of those sen- 
 timents 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 necessity 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 instructers. The plainest, and most per- 
 spicuous passages will, for the present, best deserve and re- 
 ward your attention. The historical parts of the Old Tes- 
 tament will entertain you, if you consider them only in a 
 classical point of view, as valuable passages of ancient his- 
 tory; 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 admirable 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 vabounds 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 imagery 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 witih that 
 humility, which becomes a finite being, but more particular- 
 ly a young person; you will do well to pay especial at- 
 tention to the sermon on the Mount, and to that admirable 
 epitome of all moral philosophy, the rule of doing to 
 
 OTHERS, AS WE WOULD THEY SHOULD DO UNTO US. If yOU 
 
 pay due obedience to this precept, you will never hesitate 
 in determining what part you are, upon every occasion, to 
 act. It is proper you should familiarize your mind to the 
 language of scripture; although you niay not fully com- 
 prehend 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 sub- 
 stantial props through len^:thening years; but alf this, my 
 
254 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 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 address- 
 ed 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 inadver- 
 tance; 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 emi- 
 nent, in whatever profession or employment you may be 
 destined to engage. To see you contemptible, 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 accomplishments, and especially elevated by Chris- 
 tianity. Your parents have labored indefatigably, to pro- 
 mote you; but it remains with yourself to give success to 
 their endeavors. The mind is not like a vessel, into'which 
 we may pOur any good quality, whatever the director may 
 choose; 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 instructers 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 honor, 
 felicity, and prosperity; if you hope to be useful, and res- 
 pected in society; 
 
 ' Always consider me as your friend and servant, 
 JOHN MURRAY.' 
 If the testimony of respectable contemporaries; of men 
 who disdained flattery, and whose judgment was unques- 
 tionable; who delighted to address our departed friend in 
 the strains of panegyric — if these vouchers were permitted 
 to decide in his favor, we could produce a cloud of witness- 
 es. We content ourselves with a few extracts, from the 
 many letters which might be produced. General Greene 
 thus writes: 'You may remember, I promised you a letter 
 at the close of every campaign. Had I the tongue of a 
 Murray to proclaim, or the pen of a Robertson to record, 
 the occurrences of this campaign should be delineated to 
 the honor of America. The Monmouth battle, and the ac- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 255 
 
 tion upon Rhode-Island, were no small triumphs to us, who 
 had so often been necessitated to turn our backs. To be- 
 hold our fellows, chasing the British off the field of battle, 
 afforded a pleasure, which you can better conceive, than 1 
 describe. If, my dear Murray, I had before been an unbe- 
 liever, I have had sufficient evidence of the intervention 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 com- 
 plaiiit — 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 with you as ever.'' Well, go on, and pros- 
 per, and may God bless you to the end of the chapter.' 
 Again, General Greene writes: 'It is, my de^r sir, a long 
 time since you and I 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 origi- 
 nal. 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 dis- 
 tress. Soon after you left me upon Long Island, I was 
 seized with a violent fit of sickness; my restoration was un- 
 expected, 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 Coven- 
 try.' 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 received, than to repine because they are not great- 
 er. But man is a thankless creature : yet you, dear Murray, 
 know, that the mercies of God are happily proportioned to 
 our weakness. Retired to winter quarters, the social pas- 
 sionsi once more kindled into life. Love and friendship 
 triumph over the heart, and the sweet pleasure of domestic 
 happiness, call to remembrance my once happy circle of 
 friends, in which you, my dear Sir, appear in the first rank. 
 
 ^. 
 
256 LIFE OF REV% JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 My friendship for you is indeed of the warmest description. 
 My attachment was not hastily formed, and it will not easily 
 be relinquished, learly admired your talents; your mor- 
 als have earned my esteem; and neither distance nor cir- 
 cumstances will diminish my affection.' 
 
 The subjoined extracts are from letters written by a 
 gentleman of high respectability, in the mercantile, litera- 
 ry, 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 assur- 
 ances 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 exer- 
 tion in our behalf. My ardent prayer is for your life, and 
 health. The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are 
 few; yet I trust in God, that the beams of light will irradi- 
 ate 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 yo;i no 
 nov^elty, for what intellectual ground is there that you have 
 not trod or that I can mark out, which you have not be- 
 fore observed. I am wearied with reiterated reflection, 
 and I pant for that sky, where I may range without con- 
 finement. The simple truths of the gospel pleaso me much. 
 I rest in confidence that Clirist died for me, rose again for 
 my justificatibn, 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 sh ill es- 
 cape to heaven, its native seat. I recollect your | reach- 
 ing with pleasure, and I bless God for the light he has been 
 pleased to convey to my mind, through your instrumentali- 
 ty; may your labors be blessed with success; but I predict 
 the genuine gospel laborers will be but few. Poor man! 
 you must stand singly opposed, 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 
 world.'' 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 1 love them for their friendship 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 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHU MURKAT. 5167 
 
 them. Should you have a vacant moment, you will do 
 well to fill it, by writing to us your children.' 
 
 Never my dear Murray, can I forget you, while mem- 
 ory holds her seat in this benighted vale. The impres- 
 sions are too lasting to be effaced, and so deeply are they 
 marked together, that when the ideas of the great redemp- 
 tion arise in my mind, those of Relly and Murray, are in- 
 seperable therefrom, as the mediums through which sub- 
 lime truth beamed upon my soul. I am desirous of antici- 
 pating 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 
 I 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 o))erations will always produce the best consequen- 
 ces. I, however, find it difficult to suppress the indigna- 
 tion I feel at th^' treatment you receive. What shall cure 
 these distempered minds? what shall compose the tumult 
 of their frenzy, 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 Physician, 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 
 vaiuj but I can iiever 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 re- 
 ward 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 friendship, 
 would be flattering to me in the highest degree. My wish- 
 es are to deserve both. You do indeed appear to me a chosen 
 * 07ie an elect soul. Call these expressions extravagant, if 
 you please, but they are as far short of what I feel, as lan- 
 guage is inadequate to the expressions 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 attributed goodness to 
 Deity. Our benignant religion developes the goodness of 
 God in the enlightening su«, thfc fructifying rain, the 
 cheering wine, and the nutritious bread; in short, in a 
 thousand million examples, with which nature so liberally 
 abounds. Indeed, we should seldom be unhappy, did we 
 22* 
 
358 LIFB OF REV. JOHN MVRBAY. 
 
 more constantly realize the presence of a redeeming God. 
 1 admire the candor 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 letters are under my pil- 
 low; 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 instruction and entertainment. Were I to attempt 
 to give it due and just consideration, I should write a vol- 
 ume, and probably not succeed at last. You say, and I be- 
 lieve 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 to- 
 ward 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 re- 
 gret exceedingly, that I cannot attend your expositions of 
 the ceremonial Law, in which I understand you are engag- 
 ed. Those laws are a deep and rich mine of instruction. 
 The scriptures are One, like a great Epic; their action is 
 One, the Restoration of a lost nature. The subordi- 
 nate 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 activity 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, you would do well to be- 
 stow some portion of your time to record and elucidate 
 
 m 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHJI MURRAY. S5® 
 
 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 necessary. I have com- 
 pared 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 dissolyition of nature, securing it from the blan- 
 dishments 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 in- 
 formaiion. I need not repeat my best wishes to you; they 
 present themselves to me in full, whenever your memory 
 occurs to me. I feel that it is hereafter, Avhen 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, mv dear Sir, I am now sensible of the value of ex- 
 istence; and the insurance 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. ! 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 con- 
 tinued.' 
 
 ' Gratitude, dear and honored Sir, calls upon me to ac- 
 knowledge my great obligations for the glorious declara- 
 tion 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. It is to you, as an instrument, I am in- 
 debted 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 o.ith 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 in- 
 struction; and I know you take pleasure in considering it 
 your duty to impart your knowledge of the Redeemer to 
 the creatures whom he hath purchased with his blood. 
 
200 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAl. 
 
 Would it were the will of God to give you a permanent 
 standing among the circle of my friends, who are so great- 
 ly devoted 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 affd 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 christian 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 Sketch- 
 es, are all I hoped for, wished, or expected; they are much 
 more. I bless God, not only for the treasures of wisdom 
 committed to his venerable servant, but also that his valua- 
 ble life has been preserved to accomplish this work; a pro- 
 duction, which will live, and be read with ineffable delight, 
 when the rubbish of ages shall have been consigned to ob- 
 livion.' 
 
 Should any curiosity exist respecting Mr. Murray's po- 
 litical sentiments, 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 em- 
 braced any upright measures to have procured redress; yet, 
 perhaps, he would have been as well pleased, had England 
 and America been united upon terms of equality and recip- 
 rocal benefit; nor can it be denied, that he was, indubita- 
 bly, an Anti-Gallican. In our opinion, a total dereliction 
 of country stamps miscreant' upon the individual, who har- 
 bors feelings so reprehensible. England was the native 
 country of the preacher; the virtues flourished in his bo- 
 som, among which the amor patriae glowed with no com- 
 mon lustre. He frequently amused himself with writing 
 in numbers, which, so soon as written, he generally com- 
 mitted to the flames. The following inartificial lines, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOITN MURRAY. ^^t 
 
 Written one hour after he received intelligence of the de- 
 mise of the celebrated and meritorious Earl of Chatham, 
 may be considered as a correct delineation of his political 
 views and wishes. 
 
 Swift on the ear 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 wo j 
 All ranks, all orders, mingle in the throng ; 
 Some raise the voice in majesty of wo : 
 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 ! favored sage, exalted chief, 
 He calls his mourning country to attend, ,^.: 
 
 m^ 
 
 m 
 
 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 summoned forth. He gracious heard, and came, 
 
 Hailed by Britannia's united voice; 
 His royal master look'd benignly kind. 
 And bade him welcome to his arms, his heart j 
 For howso'er remote their varied spheres. 
 Congenial souls, ^t would seem, informed 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 
 The Nation gave her treasures to his care, 
 Himself the richest treasure she possess'dj 
 And anxious eyes from every rank were raised, 
 With serious awe, and steadfast hope to him; 
 Nor were their hopes, their expectations vain. 
 New life, new views, fresh vigor nerved his arm, 
 All that was wrong, his vigilance set right, 
 
963 LIFE OF REV. JOJIN MURRAY. 
 
 And; what was greater far, preserved 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 shiii|p. 
 
 The fawning sycophant oft sought his smile. 
 But piercing eye-beams struck the caitiff blind 5 
 The foes to virtue trembled at his nod, 
 iL While her glad sons flocked hovering round their SirCt 
 The Merchant watched his eye 5 the sons of Art, 
 The swain who turns the glebe, but chiefly he 
 On glory bent, who ploughed the watery way, 
 Panting to grasp the treasures of the globe. 
 He carefully this Pole-Star still observed. 
 And safely voyaged, with this star in view. 
 How ^ wild alas ! he'll wander now 'tis hid. 
 
 The secrete 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 roll from shore to shore j 
 The sooty tribes of Afric shrink appalPd, 
 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 with filial love, 
 And every son of Albion shared his care. 
 
 Nor did the British garden, blooming round 
 Alone engage the heavenly laborer's toil ; 
 With v/atchful eye he viewed 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. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 36.5 
 
 Dear, much loved offspring of this happy Isle, 
 .With us, sincere, ye mourn the common loss 3 
 With us lament the Father and the Friend : 
 But, while our bursting hearts deplore hia flight 
 Perfidious Bourbon ghastly grins his joy 5 
 The Gallic Cock now feebly claps his wings 
 And thinks to hear the Lion roar no more. 
 Base, treacherous, cringing, dastard slaves, beware j 
 Although our Sun be set to rise no more, ^ 
 
 The moon and stars shall guide the Lion's paw 
 To seize thee trembling in thy close retreat. 
 Already mark ! he shakes his shaggy mane, 
 And growling rises from his murky den 5 
 His eye-balls roll with rage — 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, 
 This highly favored 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 although the sentiments of the preacher may be gath- 
 ered from his writings, yet, as this volume may come un- 
 der 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 brief 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 Eternal now, was, is, and will be ever pres- 
 ent. Every thing which has past, in 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 Om- 
 nipresent ; and Omniscient; consequently he performed 
 
S64 WFE OP REV. JOHN MVRRAT. 
 
 all his will; was, is, and will be, present through all 
 space, through time and through eternity. In the prose- 
 cution 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 archangels, sur- 
 rounded the throne of the Most High. The morning stars 
 sang together, and all the hosts of heaven rejoiced. 
 
 But strange as it may appear to our finite understanding 
 fell discord with peace-destroying influence, reared his hy- 
 dra, his tremendous head. Various conjectures hover round 
 this phenomenon. The origin of evil has exercised intel- 
 lects the most profound and erudite; but he, who can de- 
 velop 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 irreconcileable with rectitude; and to keep 
 close to that revelation, which he hath graciously vouch- 
 safed to bestovy' upon us. 
 
 The creation of man succeeded the fall of the angelic na- 
 ture. God said, — Let Us make man, &c. 8tc. Speaking 
 in the plural, with an eye to the complexity of that charac- 
 ter He had predetermined to assume, and, as we before ob- 
 served, pas^,j9resen^, an<^/w^wre, constituted, the token of 
 Deity, one complete whole; and thus were important oc- 
 currences 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 consolation, taking of the 
 things of Jesus, and exhibiting them to the mind, thus speak- 
 ing peace. Mr. Murray was at the same time a Unitari- 
 an, 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 consid- 
 ered as made in the image, and after the likeness of his 
 Creator. The fio:ure 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 
 hrith 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 thp. Sav- 
 iour: a just God and a Saviour; there is none beside me, 
 — This same evangelical prophet exultingly exclaims; Isaiah 
 ix, 6: Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, his 
 name shalV be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 966 
 
 God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. Such 
 were the comprehensive vievi^s of Deity, 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 divine purpose; in which sacred, uncontrollable, 
 and irreversible purpose, the whole family of man were 
 originally and intimately united to their august Creator, in _ 
 u 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-satisfying Union-, 
 among which, perhaps, none is more expressive than that 
 of the Head and Members constituting one body, of which 
 Jesus Christ was the immaculate Head. Hence the pro- 
 priety and necessity, of looking 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 this mysti- 
 cal hody be finally lost, the Redeemer must, through eter- 
 nity, 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 fur- 
 nished 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 oflfends in one point is guilty of all. 
 
 Why then was the commandment so exceeding broad .? 
 To convince mankind of imbecility; and that the rectitude 
 they had forfeited, could never, in their own individual cha- 
 racters be regained. But the plan of Deity was without 
 an error, the revolution of time ushered in the great Repre- 
 sentative, or more properly speaking, the Head of the body; 
 and the forfeit was paid, full atonement was presented, the 
 ransom 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 promulgator. 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 
 believer in Universal Redemption; because that sacred 
 23 
 
silo LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Tolume, which he steadfastly, and unwaveringly believed 
 to be the word of God, assured him the price was paid, and 
 the whole human family was redeemed. 
 
 It was the neglecting- to distinguish between salvation and 
 redemption, which so frequently drew upon the preacher 
 the charge of prevarication, or, as it was termed by Mr. 
 
 C 1 — , hiding. An article of intelligence may be an 
 
 established fact ; \t may most importantly affect us; but so 
 long as the mind refuses to admit its authenticity, we are 
 undeniably subjected to all those agonizing apprehensions, 
 whi'^.h we should endure, if no such fact existed; and it was 
 the salvation from these mental sufferings, which Mr. Mur- 
 ray supposed consequent upon a preached Gospel; in other 
 words, an exemption from those tortures, that conscious- 
 ness of condemnation, which is most emphatically describ- 
 ed, 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 unbeliever; every believer, then, was once damned, 
 and it was only when he became a believer, that he was 
 saved from those countless agonies, which erst times 
 pierced him through with many sorrows. But he was re- 
 deemed, the price was paid, ere ever he was called into ex- 
 istence. Thus, in this view, redemption and salvation are 
 distinct considerations. 
 
 The preacher unhesitatingly believed, aZZ who learned o^ 
 the Father would come to Jesus, and that all \\o\i\Ajinally 
 be taught of God. He was a decided believer in the doc- 
 trine of angels of light, and angels of darkness, of minister- 
 ing 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 resurrection of damnation, and, ignorant of the gen- 
 uine character of the Redeemer, 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 
 ministry of reconciliation, he was never so completely hap- 
 py, as when declaring the gospel to be believed; and calling 
 upon men every where, to receive the glad tidings of salva- 
 tion. He was persuaded that those, who lied down in sor- 
 row, 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, loho, by 
 Himself , purged our sins. Writing of Mr. Winchester to 
 a friend, Mr. Murray thus expressed himself, ^ Mr. Win- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 267 
 
 Chester is full with Mr. Law, and of course preaches pur- 
 gatorial 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, m)' Saviour? If this pur- 
 gatorial doctrine be true, the ministry of reconciliation, 
 committed to the apostles must he 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 Christianity, genuine Christianity, than such 
 Uni\^ersalists.' 
 
 Mr Murray supposed the inquietude of unembodied, or 
 departed spirits, 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 en- 
 veloped in darkness, there were, and are, things that did 
 and do belong to their peace; that the day cometh, when 
 whatsoever is hid shall be revealed; and, that at the period 
 of the restitution of all things, the word, the oath of Jeho- 
 vah 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. 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 sum- 
 moned 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 his 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 s.eparated, one from another, the 
 one taken the other left. The fallen angels, figured by the 
 goats, shall be ranged on the left hand,, while the harassed 
 human nature, 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 
 
268 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Family J shall he 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 Gos- 
 pel, rightly understood, would teach men every where, to 
 be careful of maintaining good works, to love one another, 
 and in all things to regard the best interests 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 gather upon the countenance 
 of his God, or to obstruct, so far as it referred to his pros- 
 pects, beyond the grave, the clear sunshine of his soul. , 
 
 If we except the Rev. John Tyler, Episcopalian minister 
 in Norwich, Connecticut, and the Rev. Edward Mitchell 
 in the city of New-York, we do not know that the senti- 
 ments of any preacher of Universalism now upon this Con- 
 tinent, are exactly in unison with the departed promulga- 
 tor. But if they build upon the great foundation, we de- 
 voutly wish them Gods speed; well assured, that those 
 who build upon this foundation— g-oZc?, silver ^ precious stones, 
 toood, hay, stubble — every man^s work shall be made mani^ 
 fest. For the day shall declare it, Oecause it shall be revealed 
 byjire; and the fire 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. If any man's work shall be burnt, 
 he shall suffer 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, orig- 
 inating in devout admiration of redeeming love, it is fer- 
 vently 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. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 Thus ends the narrative of the life of this most extraor- 
 dinary man — the man, who, under God, may justly be re- 
 garded as the father of the Universalist Order in this coun- 
 try. The attentive reader will have observed many pecu- 
 liarities in the character he has so ingeniously drawn of 
 himself; and it will be surprising if any can rise from the 
 perusal of this little volume without being impressed with 
 a sense of the fact, that, even in those peculiarities, there 
 is much to admire. He seems to have been eminently well 
 qualified for the arduous labors he was called to perform. 
 No man could have done more or done it better — few could 
 have done so much in advancing the cause of impartial 
 grace. The blessing of God seems to have attended and 
 followed his exertions. Many are yet alive who were once 
 favored with the privilege of listening to his instructive 
 communications; and they rank high among the ardent and 
 steadfast friends of the truth, as it is in Jesus. . 
 
 After a lapse of little more than half a century from the 
 time when he first began his public labors in this country, 
 it becomes most deeply interesting to know how far the 
 cause he advocated, has advanced — whether the seed which 
 he scattered abroad, fell on stony places, or on good ground; 
 and we are tempted to state a few facts in relation to the 
 past prosperity and present condition of Universalism in 
 this country, with the view of marking its progress, that 
 after generations may learn not to despise ' the day of small 
 things.' 
 
 In the places where the stated labore of the venerated 
 Murray were enjoyed, the sentiment has continued to ad- 
 vance, and Ls now permanently established. In Gloucester, 
 where he suffered much, and where, we believe, the first 
 regularly constituted church of the order was collected, 
 there are now five societies, three of which enjoy stated 
 preaching, and are examples to the believers in all things. 
 Many, who once li.stene(l to hU eloquent illustrations of 
 truth, and who were inspired with the hopes of a blissful 
 immortality by his preaching, are yet alive, and are * ready 
 to give to every man that asketh, a reason of the hope that 
 is in them.' They remain steadfast in the faith once de- 
 23 
 
270 APPENDIX. 
 
 livered to the saints, and abound in a well foanded and 
 peace giving confidence in the impartial grace and love of 
 God. We shun not inquiry. We ask the Christian world 
 to look at the daily walk and conversation — the steadfast- 
 ness and intelligence — the zeal and fidelity of those early 
 converts to the doctrine of the Restitution, and then to de- 
 cide upon its tendency. We will not stop here. We ask 
 Christians of all denominations to look at the influence 
 they have exerted upon the community, and especially 
 upon their children, and then say how far the fears of their 
 opponents — not to say their persecutors — have been real- 
 ized. 
 
 The society in Hanover Street, Boston, where Mr. Mur- 
 ray labored several years, and where his useful life termi- 
 nated has enjoyed uninterrupted prosperity. The house 
 in which his voice was heard with so much delight, is yet 
 occupied by a large and highly respectable congregation, 
 under the pastoral care of Rev. Sebastian Streeter. From 
 this have sprung three other societies — one under the care 
 of Rev. Hosea Ballou, one enjoying the labors of Bev. Paul 
 Dean, who was formerly colleague with Mr. Murray, and 
 the other, a society recently formed in South Boston, fa- 
 vored with the devoted exertions of Rev. Benjamin Whitte- 
 more. All these are in a flourishing condition. To these 
 may be added, as having grown out of the first Universalist 
 society in Boston, one at Charlestown, one at Roxbury, 
 one at Cambridge, and one at Maiden — all within four 
 miles of the city. 
 
 But this gives but a faint idea of the spread and i)ros- 
 perity of the doctrines he taught. The number of minis- 
 ters now actually engaged in defending and promulgating 
 the doctrine of the final reconciliation and happiness of 
 all mankind, cannot be less than three hundred. The 
 number of societies we have no means of ascertaining — 
 doubtless it far exceeds the number of preachers. " Be- 
 sides all this, the principles which distinguished the early 
 promulgator of glad tidings, have spread and are spread- 
 ing throughout our happy country, in hundreds of places 
 where the voice of a preacher of the order was never 
 heard. Nine or ten periodicals are now extensively pa- 
 tronised, and are enjinently successful in disseminating 
 the knowledge of the truth. Thus are we enabled, on 
 presenting to the public a new edition of the life of 
 Murray, to congratulate our brethren on the success of 
 the principles, on account of which he labored and suflfer- 
 ed reproach. The pleasure of the Lord has truly prosper- 
 ed in the thing whereto he sent it. Ed. 
 
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