ON ATTENDING AN EVANGELICAL MINISTRY.
Mr. Roscoe had devoted a large portion of his life to biblical studies, and the various branches of literature which are connected with them, and was thus qualified to discuss theological questions with great facility. His passion for disputation having subsided into an ardent love of the truth, he no longer argued for the honour of gaining the victory, but either to vindicate his opinions when assailed, or to acquire more correct information on subjects which, till recently, he but imperfectly understood. His loftiness of spirit had now left him; and though he still displayed the insignia of a high mental order, yet there was so much amiability in his manner, and so much docility in his temper, that while he commanded respect, he did not fail to win esteem. During his first serious impressions, the light of truth shone with too feeble a ray to produce that perfect and plenary conviction which permits the mind no longer to vacillate; but when it came, not in word only, but also in power, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance, he received it with mingled emotions of astonishment and joy; and while he still retained his constitutional independence and ardour, these qualities were so softened and imbued by the love of Christ, that they gave a charm to his character and conversation, of which every one was conscious but himself.
His more public profession of religion was free from ostentation, and without reserve. It was not made to gratify caprice, or cast a reflection on the indecision of others, but in obedience to the authority of the Saviour; and as he had, before his conversion, acquired extensive information on theological subjects, when that great event took place he was enabled to advocate the cause of truth with considerable ability, without requiring the preparatory course of instruction which is in general necessary. He still held in veneration the Established Church, and respected the private character of his parish minister, the Rev. Mr. Cole, though he could not agree with his sentiments; but as he was not edified by his ministrations, he felt it to be his duty to separate himself from his congregation, and join himself to that of the Rev. Mr. Ingleby, whose evangelical preaching was quite in accordance with his own views of revealed truth. This step had been anticipated by his friends, and while some of them commended him, others were much displeased.
On the evening preceding the Sabbath, Mr. Roscoe mentioned the resolution he had formed, when his brother remarked, "I am not surprised at your determination, because I know that it is a very general thing for those who embrace evangelical principles to prefer an evangelical ministry; but will not such a step grieve your old friend, the Rev. Mr. Cole."
Mr. Roscoe.—"Perhaps it may; but ought I, by my presence, to sanction opinions which I believe to be erroneous?"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"Though Mr. Cole differs from you on some points of theology, there are many on which you agree; and I think you may, like some others who have embraced evangelical principles, still attend a ministry which does not belong to this specific denomination, as you retain the right of rejecting what you disapprove."
Mr. Roscoe.—"If the points on which we differ did not involve any essential doctrine of the Christian faith, I should deem it my duty still to attend his ministry; but when I consider that he denies those truths which are, in my opinion, the vital parts of Christianity, and preaches what an apostle would call another gospel, I ought not to give him the sanction of my presence. If I sustained no personal injury under such a ministry, I could not derive any real advantage from it. And, besides, am I not responsible to God and to society for the influence of my example, as well as for my opinions and principles? If so, I am under a sacred obligation to be as cautious what I indirectly sanction, as what I recommend. Can I, without sacrificing the dictates of my conscience, recommend a person to believe that he requires no other regeneration than that which he experienced when he was baptized, and that his good deeds will atone for his evil actions; that he requires no other qualification for heaven than a faithful discharge of his relative duties on earth? Impossible. If, then, I cannot recommend the adoption of these opinions, ought I to sanction them by my presence, when they are enforced by others? I believe that men, before they are renewed in the spirit of their minds, live in a state of alienation from God—under the condemning sentence of his holy law—and are justly exposed to future and endless misery. I believe this on the testimony of the sacred writers, whose testimony is corroborated by the articles of our church; and do not the same authorities teach us to believe that the truth, when preached in a pure and faithful manner, is the ordained means of the conversion and salvation of men? But if the pure truth of the gospel becomes corrupted, are we not taught to believe that the people perish? He who corrupts it, either wilfully or through ignorance, will stand responsible at the last day for the awful consequences of his conduct; but if I give my sanction to a ministry which I believe to be a corruption of the gospel, and the people should perish under it, shall I not be regarded as accessory to their ruin?"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"But supposing I admit that an anti-evangelical ministry is a corruption of the gospel, and that it does not prove the means of the conversion and salvation of those who hear it, yet you must allow that they hear the truth in its purity from the desk, where the Bible, as well as the prayers are read, which answers the same purpose. Hence I have known some who have imbibed evangelical sentiments, recommend a continuance at their parish church on this account, though the ministry may not exactly accord with their views and taste."
Mr. Roscoe.—"Yes; we have the pure gospel in the desk, even when we have another gospel in the pulpit; but I have never known it produce those moral effects on the people which result from an evangelical ministry. The prayers of our Liturgy may aid the devotional feelings of a renewed Christian, but it is the preaching of the truth that God employs as the means of infusing the devotional spirit; and though some may recommend us to attend where the gospel is confined to the reading-desk, yet can we suppose that Paul would do so if he were on earth? Would he, who pronounced that man or angel accursed who dared to preach any other gospel than that which he and his fellow-apostles preached, urge his friends or his hearers, if he were taking leave of them, to attend a ministry which he believed to be in opposition to the truth? Impossible! Can we suppose that our Lord, who commanded his disciples to take heed what they heard, would, if he were again to appear on earth, recommend us to attend on a ministry which he believed was subversive of the truth, and the means of misleading the people? Impossible! If we cannot believe that they would recommend us to do it, ought we to recommend that others should do so? Would it be wise to act in opposition to such authority? would it be safe? would it be in accordance with the will of the Lord Jesus? and could we calculate on receiving his benediction—Well done, good and faithful servant?"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"But surely you do not mean that every one who embraces evangelical sentiments ought to leave his parish church if those sentiments are not preached there?"
Mr. Roscoe.—"Most certainly I do."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"Indeed! Suppose one member of a family should embrace evangelical sentiments, while all the rest retain their former belief, would you recommend that one individual to disturb the peace of his family, by straying to some other church to hear his favourite doctrines."
Mr. Roscoe.—"I recommend no one to disturb the peace of a family, and I rather think it will be found, when peace is disturbed, it is in consequence of the resistance which is raised by the opposite party. Here is, for example, a single individual in the midst of a large circle of gay acquaintances, who feels the renewing influence of truth, and makes an open profession of her faith in Christ. She now retires from the follies and vanities of the world, adopts habits which are decidedly religious, and, without infringing on the rights of others, she claims the privilege of attending that place of worship where she can derive the most spiritual improvement. What law, either human or divine, is violated by such a decision? None. But as the profession of faith in Christ, in the midst of a circle of the gay and the fashionable, is a novelty repugnant to their tastes, and considered by many of them so inelegant, and such a near approximation to the habits of the lower orders, she who makes it becomes an object of satire and reproach, and then is accused as being the cause of all the domestic misery which they originate."
Mrs. Roscoe.—"But you know, my dear, that our domestic peace was destroyed as soon as Sophia imbibed her evangelical sentiments; and you know that religion has been the subject of contentious debate between us ever since."
Mr. Roscoe.—"But would it ever have been destroyed if we had not done it? A letter[17] which she addressed to us convinced me, at the time, of the injustice of our accusation; but now I look back on that dark period of our life with more pain than any former one. That letter satisfied me that I ought not to oppose her; and though I then regretted that she had embraced views of truth which were so different from my own, yet I admired the firmness and constancy which she uniformly displayed when they were assailed; and now I do not hesitate to say, that he who opposes or persecutes another on account of his religious principles and habits, is treasuring up to himself wrath against the day of wrath."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"I disapprove of persecution as much as you do: it is both impolitic and cruel; and seems to be one of the crimes which is left for the more savage and waspish part of our nature to commit. But, still, if we do not oppose force against a person who has embraced evangelical principles, we may reason; and as I consider the desertion of a parish church a serious evil, you must permit me to remind you that if you leave yours and go to hear Mr. Ingleby, the stability of your character will be shaken. You have been considered as one of the pillars of the congregation—one of its ornaments—your decision has been admired no less than your benevolence, and all regret that you should fall from your steadfastness, and exchange the religion of your forefathers, which is grown venerable for its antiquity, for a new religion, which has but recently sprung up amongst us."
Mr. Roscoe.—"This was one of the very arguments which the Church of Rome employed against the Reformers, and if they had yielded to its influence, we should still have been in her communion. I recollect having met, some time since, in the course of my reading, with the following judicious reply to a satirical question which a Catholic bishop proposed to a Protestant:—'Where was your religion before the days of Luther?' 'In the Bible, Sir, where yours is not, and never was.' The Bible, as Bishop Stillingfleet very justly observes, is the religion of Protestants. You say that I have exchanged an old for a new religion, but this I deny. I still admire the Liturgy, and I still believe the Articles of the church; I still retain that religion which you say is venerable for its antiquity; but, then, I believe it is not to remain a religion of mere forms and ceremonies, but that it is to operate on my heart, and produce within me the peaceable fruits of righteousness. The new religion, as you and others are pleased to term it, is not a corruption of the old; but it is the old religion of our venerable Reformers, and the good old bishops and pastors of our church, revived in its primitive simplicity, and life, and power. It is the religion of the Bible, which enlightens and renovates the inner man—which brings us into fellowship with the Holy One—which preserves the broad line of distinction between the real and the nominal Christian—and which, by its progressive influence, makes us meet to become partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"But I do not think that you can, consistently with your profession as a Churchman, leave your parish church to attend one in another parish; the rector is the shepherd, whose spiritual jurisdiction extends over the whole parish, and the people are, ecclesiastically considered, his flock. Is it right for one sheep to stray into another fold for pasture?"
Mr. Roscoe.—"Your figure of comparison is more fanciful than just. As we live in a land of freedom, where every man is permitted to exercise his own judgment on every religious question, we may believe what doctrines, practise what ceremonies, and hear what minister we please, without offending against any law, or subjecting ourselves to the interference of others."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"But you are not sure that you will approve of all the doctrines that Mr. Ingleby preaches, and may, after a while, be under the necessity of going elsewhere."
Mr. Roscoe.—"If I should be under the necessity of going elsewhere, I ought to be thankful that I have the right, and also the opportunity of doing so. But as this is an hypothetical case, I feel under no obligation to reply to it, further than to say, that as religion is now become essential to my happiness, and an enlightened ministry[18] essential to my spiritual improvement, I shall go where I can derive most advantage. Places and forms, times and seasons, are the accidental associations of religion, not the integral parts of it. That powerful ascendency which they once retained over my imagination and prejudices is now destroyed, and I am free to hear the truth wherever it is proclaimed, and to offer up my sacrifice of prayer and of praise to God, in any place which he will condescend to visit with his presence."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"But I presume you do not intend to leave the church for any of the Dissenting chapels which are springing up amongst us."
Mr. Roscoe.—"You know that I am attached to the constitution and the prescribed formula of the church, but I have a stronger attachment for the gospel of Christ, which is the power of God to salvation; and if I could not hear it preached within the walls of the Establishment, I should consider it my duty to go where I could hear it. Now, I will put one simple question, and I am perfectly willing to be guided by your reply. Suppose the pure gospel was preached in a Dissenting chapel, and another gospel was preached in the church, to which place would the apostle Paul go to worship, if he were a resident amongst us?"
The Rev. Mr. Roscoe made no reply to this somewhat hampering question; but his wife, who was rather more ingenuous in her disposition, and less anxious about the consequences of any fair concession or admission, said, "I have no doubt but he would go to the Dissenting chapel, and take others with him."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"My dear! do you really think so? you must be more guarded."
Mrs. John Roscoe.—"Yes, I do most certainly think so; and I'll tell you why. He has pronounced a woe against any one who shall dare to preach another gospel than that which he preached; and therefore it is not likely that he would sanction an official service, against which he has recorded his solemn and awful denunciations. It would be exposing himself to the consequences of his own anathema if he were to do so."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe, smiling.—"I bow to the Spirit, that will rule in spite of apostolic prohibition."
Mrs. John Roscoe.—"Yes, when it rules in righteousness, as in this case, rebellion would be treason, no less to logic than to apostolic authority."
On the following Sabbath morning we were delighted to see Mr. Roscoe and his family enter the church, Mrs. John Roscoe accompanying them. As this was the first time they had come to hear Mr. Ingleby, we were very naturally somewhat excited on the occasion. He read the prayers with great solemnity and pathetic earnestness; and it was evident, from the expressive responses of the congregation, that they felt engaged in a devotional exercise, blending, in the name of the glorious Mediator, supplication with thanksgiving. His subject was taken from Revelation iii. 21, "To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne." After a few prefatory remarks, the venerable rector said, "I shall endeavour to prove from these words that the Christian is animated in his course by the hope of attaining the honours which wait him at the end of it." He had, in this sublimely interesting subject, ample scope for the exhibition of some of the most attractive and impressive parts of revealed truth; and such was the ease, energy, and animation with which he spoke, that the audience listened with fixed attention; and though he knew not that Mr. Roscoe's family was present, yet, from the tenor of his remarks, some thought that the sermon was intended solely for them.
After service, when strolling leisurely through the church-yard, Farmer Pickford pressed through the crowd, and rather abruptly gave me his hearty hand-shake, and we walked away together, his modest wife by his side.
"We have had an excellent sermon this morning."
"That's true, Sir, and no mistake. Mr. Ingleby speaks as though he believed and felt what he says. He is wonderfully clever. He knows the Bible from Genesis to Revelation; and methinks he could repeat it without looking at it. And what a smart voice he has—not too loud for them that sit near him, and loud enough to make people hear outside the church if a window happens to be open."
"He is indeed an eloquent man, and mighty in the Scriptures; that is, he has extensive and profound knowledge of them."
"He has more verses of the Bible in one sarmunt than Parson Cole puts in threescore; and I take notice that they are all different, while Parson Cole is always repeating two, which I have learnt by heart. One is, 'Be not righteous overmuch;' and t'other, 'In the last days perilous times shall come.' He has given me a bit of a liking for the Bible. I read one chapter every night to the youngsters before they go to bed, and two on a Sunday."
"I hope you understand and feel what you read, and what you hear from the pulpit?"
"Why, Sir, as for that I can't say much; but I can say this, I like what I hear, and I can make out Mr. Ingleby's meaning a bit better now than I could at first. What he says often comes home here," placing his hand over his heart, "and then I can't help feeling, and at times I feel desperately; but then, worse luck, it all goes off on a Monday."
"I suppose, though, you sometimes think during the week on what you hear at church on the Sabbath?"
"I can't help doing that; but, worse luck, I can't make out his meaning by my own thinkings so cleverly as he does in his sarmunts."
"That's very likely; but I suppose you now reflect at times on the worth of your soul, and the possibility of its being lost?"
"Ay, that I do; more now in one hour than I ever did all my life long before. Parson Cole never made me feel or think, but when he was lashing away at the schesmeatics, as he calls the Methodists, and then I used to feel mightily pleased. I often think we were two fools together—one for lashing the Methodists, who never offended him, and t'other for being pleased with it. I never come from church now without thinking about myself and my sins, and about Jesus Christ who died on the cross, and about heaven and hell. These are now to me great realities. Nothing else, as you said to me when you first talked to me, is of equal importance. But I am very stupid in such matters, worse luck. Wife knows a power more about such things than I do, and she often helps me a bit to mind and understand Mr. Ingleby's sarmunts. We often sit up an hour or so after the youngsters and the sarvunts are gone to bed, to talk over these matters. I like her talk, as I understand it a bit."
"I suppose you understand Mr. Ingleby much better than you used to understand Mr. Cole; and I daresay you would not very willingly go back to your parish church?"
"I have been there, Sir, for the last time, and no mistake. When there, I could sit thinking about my crops and my cattle, but I can't do that at church now. No; Mr. Ingleby takes my heart along with him; and at times he gives such terrible back strokes that he makes me tremble—ay, and cry too; and I a'n't ashamed to confess it to you."
"I am thankful to hear you say what you do say, and I have no doubt but you will, by and by, know spiritual things much better than you do now."
"And so I tell him, Sir; I tell him he is now like the man of whom we read in the Gospel of Mark, who, when the Lord began to open his eyes, saw so confusedly, that men appeared like trees walking; but after a while he saw things as clearly and as distinctly as other people."
"The Lord grant it may be so; then I shall be a power happier than I be now. I sha'n't mind death then."
"I suppose, Mrs. Pickford, things are now more comfortable at home than they used to be?"
"Yes, Sir; I see a blessed change in my husband, and a change in my family. Sunday is now kept as it ought to be, and we all go to church, servants and all, which makes me very thankful to God for working this change in our homestead, and to you, Sir, for the part you have taken in it."
"I have a good wife, Sir, who looked after me when I neglected to look after myself, and who looked after the youngsters when I was for letting them run wild. I used to feel a power of anger against her for her Methodist ways and talk, and at times I refused to let her go to chapel on a Sunday; but I did this in the days of my ignorance. I know a bit better now, thank the Lord. She says she sees a change in all of us, but I hope she will see greater changes yet. I now know that my heart must be changed, and I pray to God to change it. I hope, Sir, you will come again to see us before you leave Fairmount, and give us a bit more prayer. That prayer you gave us at your last visit has never been off my heart since I heard it, and I don't think it will ever go off."
"Yes, Sir, do come again," said Mrs. Pickford, "I will try to make you comfortable, and you may do us some good."
"Why, Sir, I got more good to my soul by your talk when you looked in and tasted our brown loaf and cream cheese, than I got from all the parsons that ever visited us, and we have had a power of them in the shooting season. They would talk about game and dogs, but not a word about the soul and its salvation. I'll tell you what my belief is—one half of them would make better gamekeepers than parsons; and I'll tell you why I think so—a man, to be a right sort of a fellow for his work, should have a liking for it; and he should stick to it, and not gad about, minding other things."
"Very true; the ministers of religion should try to save the souls of their people."
"That, Sir, is my thinking; but no parson ever said anything to me, or to any of us, about my soul and its salvation, though they all knew I was a badish sort of a man, apt to swear a bit, and sometimes get drunk, worse luck."
"Well, Farmer, I hope now you will work out your salvation with fear and trembling, and then you will never again commit such sins."
"I will, Sir, the Lord helping me; and I hope we all shall; we shall then be a power happier, and no mistake."
On their return from church, Mrs. John Roscoe said, "We have heard a very judicious and impressive sermon this morning. I was much pleased with the vigour and occasional elegance of Mr. Ingleby's style; but this was a source of gratification far inferior to the elevating sentiments which he delivered. I could have sat another hour with great pleasure, but not without coveting the feelings of a man who spake of the joys of heaven as one who had passed through all the necessary preparatory trials, and was living in the sweet anticipation of his final happiness."
"I was much struck," said Mrs. Roscoe, "at the size and listening attitude of the congregation. How audibly and impressively they uttered the responses. It was the sound of many voices, yet all in harmony; I saw no one gazing about, as though he were a stranger in a strange place, but every eye seemed fixed on Mr. Ingleby. I have been more pleased than I expected; and if this be a fair specimen of evangelical preaching, I shall feel no reluctance to go again."
This remark overpowered the feelings of Miss Roscoe, whose mind had been filled with anxiety respecting the issue of this first visit of her parents to the church in which she had so often listened with delight to the truths of revelation, and she could not refrain from shedding the tear of joy.
"Yes," said Mr. Roscoe, "the service was indeed interesting and impressive. The preacher displayed a spirit and a manner which became the place he occupied, and the responsibility of the sacred duties devolving on him. His mind was absorbed in his subject; and his principal aim was, by showing us our danger, and the resources of our safety, and by exhibiting before us the honours and felicities of the unseen world, so to awe and animate us, as to secure our devout and permanent attention to the momentous truths which he brought forward. I felt that the revelation of mercy was to him not a mere system of philosophical speculation, which, by exercising the reasoning faculties, improves the intellect without refining the moral sense; but that it was, what it professes to be, a restorative scheme of salvation, which, by renovating the heart, restores man to his long lost purity and bliss—deriving all its efficacy from the grace of Him by whom it was first announced."
"I never retired from a service," said Mrs. John Roscoe, "with such feelings as those that influenced my heart this morning; so dissatisfied with myself, and yet I know not why; I feel that I need something to solace my heart, and yet what that something can be I know not. I am, indeed, dear Sophia, in a state of almost overwhelming perplexity."
"Your observations, dear aunt, remind me of a passage in the history of the apostle Paul, who at one period of his life was in the same state of mental perplexity, which led him to say, 'When the commandment came, sin revived;' that is, when he felt the condemnatory application of the law of God to his conscience, he was in a tumult. Before this application was made, he thought that his heart was very good, but afterwards he felt himself a great sinner, and that he had within him many evil principles, which had been lying in such a dormant state, that he had no suspicion of their existence. The new discoveries which you are now making, and which occasion such painful perplexity, are preparing the way for other discoveries, which will soothe, and yield the sweetest consolation; and you will be led gradually onwards to a clear and comprehensive view of the grand theory of revealed truth; and then, like Paul, you 'will abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.'"
"I hope, my dear, it will be so; for I feel when associated, as I too long have been, with our Tractarian fallacies and delusions, such a craving of soul for some yet unknown spiritual helps and consolations, that I am painfully disquieted, and at times alarmed, lest I should be seized by death in my present state of unpreparedness for that solemn event. I hope, my dear, you and your papa will pray for me, for I now feel the need of the prayers of others. I know not how to pray myself. Forms are now useless to me, especially those I once used and admired, but never felt; I cannot use them now; and yet I know not how to pray to the Almighty without a written form."
"You will soon know, dear aunt."