Within about two months after his first memorable change he began to perceive some secret dawnings of more cheerful hope—that, vile as he then saw himself to be, he might nevertheless obtain mercy through a Redeemer; and at length about the end of October, 1719, he found all the burden of his mind taken off at once by the powerful impression of that memorable scripture upon his mind; (Rom. iii. 25, 26.) “Whom God hath set forth for a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins—that he might be just, and the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus.”
He had used to imagine, that the justice of God required the damnation of so enormous a sinner, as he saw himself to be; but now he was made deeply sensible, that the divine justice might be not only vindicated but glorified, in saving him by the blood of Jesus, even that blood which cleanseth from all sin. He was led to see the riches of redeeming love and grace, in such a manner as not only engaged him, with the utmost pleasure and confidence, to venture his soul upon them; but even swallowed up (as it were) his whole heart in the returns of love, which, from that blessed time, became the genuine and delightful principle of obedience, and animated him, with an enlarged heart, to run the ways of God’s commandments. Thus God was pleased (as he himself used to speak) in an hour to turn his captivity. All the terrors of his former state were turned into unutterable joy. And though the first ecstasies of it afterwards subsided into a more calm and composed delight; yet were the impressions so deep and so permanent, that he declared, on the word of a Christian and a friend, wonderful as it might seem, that, for about seven years after this, he enjoyed nearly a heaven upon earth. His soul was almost continually filled with a sense of the love of God in Christ; so that from the time of his waking in the morning, his heart was rising to God, and triumphing in him; and these thoughts attended him through all the day, till he lay down on his bed again, and a short interval of sleep (for it was but a very short one that he allowed himself) invigorated his animal powers for renewing those thoughts with greater intenseness and sensibility.
A life any thing like this, could not be entered upon, in the midst of such company as he was obliged to keep, without great opposition. He, however, early began a practice, which to the last day of his life he retained, of reproving vice and profaneness; and was never afraid to debate the matter with any, under the consciousness of such superiority in the goodness of his cause.
A remarkable instance of this happened about the middle of the year 1720, on his first return to make any considerable abode in England, after his remarkable change. He had heard on the other side of the water, that it was currently reported among his companions at home, that he was stark mad: a report at which no reader, who knows the wisdom of the world in these matters will be much surprised. He hence concluded that he should have many battles to fight, and was willing to despatch the business as fast as he could. And, therefore, being to spend a few days at the country-house of a person of distinguished rank, with whom he had been very intimate, he begged the favour of him that he would contrive matters so, that a day or two after he came down, several of their former gay companions might meet at his Lordship’s table; that he might have an opportunity of making his apology to them, and acquainting them with the nature and reasons of his change. It was accordingly agreed to; and a pretty large company met on the day appointed, with previous notice that major Gardiner would be there. A good deal of raillery passed at dinner, to which the major made very little answer. But when the cloth was taken away, and the servants had retired, he begged their patience for a few minutes and then plainly and seriously told them what notions he entertained of virtue and religion, and on what considerations he had absolutely determined, that, by the grace of God, he would make these things the care and business of his life, whatever he might lose by it, and whatever censure and contempt he might incur. He well knew how improper it was, in such company, to relate the extraordinary manner in which he was awakened; which they would probably have interpreted as a proof of lunacy, notwithstanding all the gravity and solidity of his discourse; but he contented himself with such a rational defence of a righteous, sober and godly life, as he knew none of them could with any shadow of reason contest. He then challenged them to propose any thing they could urge to prove that a life of irreligion and debauchery was preferable to the fear, love, and worship of the eternal God, and a conduct agreeable to the precepts of his gospel. And he failed not to bear his testimony from his own experience, (to one part of which many of them had been witnesses,) that after having run the round of sensual pleasure, with all the advantages the best constitution and spirits could give him, he had never tasted any thing deserving to be called happiness, till he made religion his refuge and delight. He testified, calmly and boldly, the habitual serenity and peace, that he now felt in his own breast, and the composure and pleasure with which he looked forward to objects, which the gayest sinner must acknowledge to be equally unavoidable and dreadful.
Upon this, the master of the table, a person of very frank and candid disposition, cut short the debate by saying, “Come let us call another cause; we thought this man mad, and he is in good earnest proving that we are so.” On the whole, this well-judged circumstance saved him a good deal of further trouble. When his former acquaintances observed that he was still conversable and innocently cheerful, and that he was immovable in his resolution, they desisted from further importunity. And he declared, that, instead of losing one valuable friend by this change in his character, he found himself much more esteemed and regarded by many, who could not persuade themselves to imitate his example.
Nothing remarkable appeared in the Colonel’s life from this period till the year 1726, when he married the Lady Frances Erskine, daughter to the Earl of Buchan, by whom he had thirteen children, five of whom survived their father.
Before the close of these short memoirs, it may not be improper, or without its use, to give the reader a sketch of the character of this excellent man, with reference to his particular relative situations; in some or other of which the reader may certainly find a model worthy of his imitation.
To view him first in the calmness of domestic life, and at the head of his affectionate family, it will naturally be supposed, that as soon as he had a house, he erected an altar in it; that the word of God was read there, and prayers and praises constantly offered. These were not to be omitted on account of any guest; for he esteemed it a part of due respect to those that remained under his roof, to take it for granted, they would look upon it as a very bad compliment, to imagine they would have been obliged by his neglecting the duties of religion on their account. As his family increased, he had a minister statedly resident in his house, who discharged the offices of tutor and chaplain, and was always treated with kindness and respect. He was constant in his attendance on public worship, in which an exemplary care was taken that the children and servants might accompany the heads of the family.
The necessity of being so many months together distant from home, hindered him from many of those condescending labours in cultivating the minds of his children in early life, which to a soul so benevolent, so wise, and so zealous would undoubtedly have afforded a very exquisite pleasure: but when he was with them, he failed not to instruct and admonish them; and the constant deep sense with which he spoke of divine things, and the real unaffected indifference which he always showed for what this vain world is most ready to admire, were daily lessons of wisdom and of piety. It was easy to perceive, that the openings of genius in the young branches of his family gave him great delight, and that he had a secret ambition to see them excel in what they undertook. Yet he was very jealous over his heart, lest he should be too fondly attached to them, and was an eminent proficient in the blessed science of resignation to the divine will.
To consider his character in the domestic relation of a master, it is proper to remark, that as his habitual meekness and command of his passions prevented indecent sallies of ungovernable anger towards those in a state of subjection to him, so the natural greatness of his mind made him solicitous to render their inferior stations as easy as he could: he had also such a sense of the dignity and worth of an immortal soul, as engaged him to give his servants frequent religious exhortations and instructions.