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for which end he often gave this rule; "If a good sense can be put upon what another says or does, never take it in a bad one." He was always serious, though frequently cheerful, and was remarkable for sanctifying the Sabbath. It was his usual practice, for many years, as soon as he was out of his bed on the Lord's day, with a cheerful heart and voice to sing part of a psalm or hymn, or to repeat the acclamation of the heavenly host; "glory to God in the highest; on earth peace, good will toward men;" in order to put himself into a spiritual frame for the work of the day. In his family his heart was greatly raised in singing psalms. He used often to say to his wife and other relatives, "Don't you find a sweetness in this day? Certainly it is the sweetest day in all the week.", He was mighty in prayer, and often admonished his friends to watch for opportunities to seek God in private. In all his rela tions he was greatly beloved and singularly useful.

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When he was ejected, the lamentations of the people would have melted any compassionate heart. At their desire, he preached privately to one congregation at Newington, and to another at Theobalds, by turns, without taking any salary from either. He afterwards had a fixed congregation at Southwark. His charity to his distressed brethren in the ministry was great. He made collections for them both at Southwark and Theobalds, having a singular faculty for disposing his hearers to give liberally. When in perfect health he was thoughtful of changes, and often prayed that

God would prepare him and his for sickness and death. For many years he performed his hard, but pleasing work, under distressing pain from a stone in his reins, which at last brought him to his end. After preaching his last sermon, he endured a week of extreme pain night and day, in which he possessed his soul in singular patience! When his pains were sharpest, he said, "I am in an agony, but not a bloody one; what are all my pains to what Christ under went for me!" The evening before his death he was asked, how he did; he answered, "I have been under a very sharp rod, but it was what my heavenly Father laid upon me; for he has said, as many as I love, I rebuke and chasten. This is a paradox to the world; but everlasting arms are under me; and, I bless God, he hath taken all the terror of death away from me." To Mr. Parsons, his fellow labourer, he said, all my self-righteousness I disown; and trust only in Christ, hoping I have a gospel righteousness." When those about him pitied his agonies, he repeated that text, "the heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy." "You know what my pains are, but you know not what my consolations are. Oh, how sweet will my glory and triumph be after these sharp pains!" When his relations wept about him, he was displeased, saying, "What! are you troubled, that God is calling home his children? If you think I am afraid of death, you mistake; for I have no fear of death upon me." Under his sharpest pains, no other language escaped his

lips, than this; "Father, pity thy child." He died on Lord's day, Oct. 29, 1696, aged only 46.

SKETCH OF REV. THOMAS

GOUGE.

THOMAS GOUGE, M. A. of King's College, Oxford, was son of the eminent Dr. William Gouge. After taking his de grees, he left the university and his fellowship, being presented to a living in Surry, where he continued two or three years, and then removed to St. Sepulchre's in London, in 1638, a large and populous parish, in which with solicitude and pains he discharged all the duties of a faithful minister 24 years, i. e, till the act of uniformity in 1662. Beside his constant preaching, he was diligent and charitable in vis, iting the sick; not only ministering spiritual counsel and comfort to them, but liberally relieving the necessities of the poor. Every morning through the year, he catechised in the church, chiefly the poorer sort, who were generally the most ignorant, and especially the aged, who had most leisure. To encourage them to come for instruction, he once a week distributed money among them; but changed the day, to secure their constant at tendance. The poor, who were able to earn their own living, he set to work, buying hemp and flax for them to spin; paying them for their work, and selling it, as he could, among his friends. In this way he rescued many from idleness, poverty and vice.

His piety toward God, the necessary foundation of all other virtues, was great and exemplary, yet still and quiet; much more

in substance, than in show. It consisted, not in finding fault with others, but in the due government of his own life and actions; exercising himself always to have a conscience, void of offence toward God and man; in which he was such a proficient, that, after long and familiar acquaintance with him, it was not easy to discern any thing in him, that deserved blame. Such was his modesty, that he never appeared, by word or action, to put any value upon himself. In regard to the charities he procured, he would rather impute them to any, who had the least concern in obtaining them, than as: sume any thing to himself.

When he quitted his living at St. Sepulchre's, upon some dissatisfaction about the terms of conformity, he forbore preaching, saying, "there was no need of him in London, and that he thought he could do as much good in another way, which would give no offence." Afterward however he had licence from some Bishop to preach in Wales, when he took his annual journey thither; where he saw great need of it, and thought he might do it with great advantage among the poor, on account of his charities there. He was clothed with humility, and had in a most eminent degree the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. His con: versation was affable and pleasant. A wonderful serenity of mind was visible even in his counte

nance.

Upon all occasions he appeared the same; always cheerful, and always kind; ready to embrace and oblige all men; and, if they did but fear God and work righteousness, he heartily loved them, however distant from

him in judgment about things less necessary, and even in opinions, that he held very dear.

But the virtue, which shone the brightest in him, was his charity to the poor. God blessed him with a good estate, and he was liberal beyond most men in doing good with it. This in deed he made the great business of his life; to which he applied himself with as much diligence, as other men labour at their trades. He sustained great loss by the fire of London, so that (when his wife died, and he had settled his children) he had but 150l. per ann. left; and even then he constantly disposed of 1007. in works of charity. He possessed singular sagacity in devising the most effectual ways of doing good, and in disposing of his charity to the greatest extent and best purposes; always, if possible, making it serve some end of piety; e. g. instructing poor children in the principles of religion, and furnishing grown, persons, who were ignorant, with the Bible, and other good books; strictly obliging those, to whom he gave them, to read them diligently, and inquiring afterward, how they had profited. His occasional relief to the poor was always mingled with good counsel, and as great compassion for their souls, as their bodies; which, in this way, often had the best effects. For the last ten years of his life, he almost wholly applied his charity to Wales, where he thought there was most occasion for it; and he took great pains to engage others in his designs, exciting the rich, in whom he had any interest, to works of charity in general; urging them to devote at least a

tenth of their estates to this

use.

When he was between 60 and 70 years of age, he used to travel into Wales, and disperse considerable sums of money, both his own, and what he collected from other persons, among the poor, labouring, persecuted ministers. But the chief designs of his charity were to have poor children taught to read and write, and carefully instructed in the principles of religion; and to furnish adults the necessary means of religious knowledge. With a view to the former, he settled in Wales three or four hundred schools in the chief towns; in many of which women were employed to teach children, and he undertook to pay for some hundreds of children himself. With a view to the latter, he procured them Bibles, and other pious and devotional books, in their own language; great numbers of which he got translated, and sent to the chief towns, to be sold at easy rates to those, who were able to buy them, and given to such as were not. In 1675 he procured a new and fair impression of the Welch Bible and liturgy, to the number of 8000; one thousand of which were given away, and the rest sold much below the common price. He used often to say with pleasure, that he had two livings, which he would not exchange for the greatest in England; viz. Christ's Hospital, where he used frequently to catechise the poor children; and Wales, whither he used to travel every year, and sometimes twice in a year, to spread knowledge, piety, and charity.

While Mr. GoUGE was doing

all this good, he was persecuted even in Wales, and excommunicated, for preaching occasionally, though he had a licence, and went constantly to the parish churches and communicated there. But, for the love of God and men, he endured all difficulties, doing good with patience and pleasure. So that, all things considered, there have not been, since the primitive times of Christianity, many among the sons of men, to whom that glorious character of the Son of God might

be better applied, that " he went about doing good." He died suddenly in his sleep, Oct. 29, 1681, aged 77. His funeral sermon was preached by Abp. Tillotson, from which the above account is principally extracted. Mr. Baxter says, "He never heard any one person speak a word to his dishonour, no not the highest prelatists themselves, save only that he conformed not to their impositions."

ORTON.

Religious Communications.

ON CHRISTIAN ZEÁL.

FEW. subjects in religion have been viewed in lights so diverse and opposite, as that of zeal. Some seem to consider it as con

stituting the very essence and sum of all goodness; the foun dation of Christianity, and its superstructure too. Others treat every kind and degree of it as so

much fanaticism or hypocrisy.

While a third class affect to con

sider it as a thing indifferent innocent perhaps but yet a mere appendage, or rather excrescence of Christianity; superfluous, unimportant and useless. To neither of these opinions does the word of God afford any countenance. It faithfully warns us that there is a zeal which is false and noxious. And it informs us that there is a genuine and holy zeal, not indeed so properly constituting a distinct virtue by itself, but rather pervading the whole spirit and character of a Christian, and ducing the most useful and love

pro

ly effects. It may not be unimportant then to inquire into the nature, properties and obligations of truly Christian zeal.

Zeal is opposed to torpor and indifference. It may be denomiof mind; or a lively, vigorous, nated an ardour and impetuosity flowing state and exercise of its affections.

From this general

definition it appears that zeal is

either virtuous or criminal, bene

ficial or noxious, according to the object and the manner of its exercise. By way of ascertaining, therefore, the nature and qualities of that zeal which may properly be styled Christian, we will consider it as a personal duty, and as a duty we owe to the cause of God, and to the best interests of our fellow men.

It has been justly remarked that true zeal, like charity, begins at home. Its prime office is to correct what is wrong in ourselves; to see to it that our own hearts be right, and our lives exemplary. Its most vehement

indignation should be directed against our own sins; its most vigorous efforts, to our own reformation and improvement. Can that man be much concerned for the salvation of others, who is careless of his own? Can he be deeply grieved and pained for others' sins, who is little affected with his own corruptions, follies and vices ?

Christian zeal has a place and influence in every other Christian grace and virtue. It imparts a tenderness and ardour to holy love; a strength and activity to faith. It renders reverence and godly fear more awful; and gives wings to the Christian's pious desires. While it infuses a sting into penitential sorrow, it adds vigour and confidence to hope; and sublimates joy in God into transport and triumph.

It has likewise an important place and use in every act of devotion. It will lead us, in prayer, to pour out, not words only, but devout breathings, intense desires, and, as it were, our very souls, to our Father in heaven. In praise, it will fill us with a solemn and delightful sense of his adorable excellencies, and infinitely varied benefits. In confession, it will melt our hearts into ingenuous and unutterable grief. It will cause us to enter the sanctuary longing for God, as the hart panteth for the water brooks. It will engage us, while we hear and meditate his word, to hunger for the bread of life, and thirst for its precious waters.

Further, genuine zeal, if we possess it, will operate in the mortification of our sins and corruptions, and engage us in a course of holy obedience. It will lead us resolutely to pluck out No 12. Vol. II. Xxx

right eyes, and cut off right hands, if these be the occasions or instruments of transgression. It will inspire and fortify us for the painful, but necessary work of crucifying the flesh, with its affections and lusts; of mortifying our earthly members; of keeping under our bodies, and bringing them into subjection; yea, it will arm us with courage and resolution to pull down strong holds, and cast every proud imagination into the dust. It will not permit us to indulge our ease, as long as we have one base passion unsubdued; one criminal propensity unmortified. Here is one

capital trial of the genuineness of our zeal. Are we engaged and anxious to reform, not only a sinful world without us, but a world of iniquity within us? Does the habitual exemplariness of our temper and conduct declare that our love to holiness, and hatred to sin, are genuine and impartial? Are our lives assiduously filled up with duty to God, and active beneficence to man? Do we not only walk humbly with our Maker, but do justly, and love mercy, to our fellow creatures? Are we rich in good works? Do we abound in them? Do we so live,as that an important chasm would be realized, and the best interests of society sustain a shock, should our exertions cease? Alas! that is but a spurious zeal which spends itself in complaints of the badness of the times, and the degeneracy of the age, while no substantial exertions are made to increase the sum of virtue and beneficence, and while of course the complainer himself is but a cumberer of the ground, a nuisance in society..

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