while they lament his offence, and will be most likely to exclaim, with all the fervour of sincerity, 'This shall be my lesson; and if this glistering jewel were thus clouded and soiled, God be merciful to me a sinner." Who would believe, that after obtaining this sacrifice of his honour, his enemies should not have been satisfied? Not so, however; they determined not only to put him to death, but to make him sfer the extreme rigour of their accursed laws. Some impute this to the queen's resentment for the part he had taken in her mother's divorce; but it would be more truly referred to Cardinal Pole, who held "that no thieves, nor murderers, were so perricious to the commonwealth as heretics; that no treason was to be compared to theirs; and that they were to be rooted up like brambles and briers, and cast into the fire." Cranmer remained in prison pierced with remorse, and spending the miserable hours allotted him in tears and confession. He knew not of the determination concerning him, even on the morning of the day he was to suffer; but he apprehended that his death was designed, and he had prepared to meet it. About nine o'clock in the morning he was taken from Bocardo to St. Mary's church, where the sermon which was to have been preached at the place of execution was delivered, because the day was rainy. The mayor and aldermen went first, then Cranmer between two friars, who chanted various psalms, and among them the "Song of Simeon," till they reached the great door. They then brought him to a stage in front of the pulpit, raised at such a height from the ground that all might see him. Dr. Cole, one of the heads of the popish party, began the sermon "by dwelling the mercy of God, and, from that theme, with the preposterous logic of his Church, proceeded to shew how necessary it was for that justice by which the Almighty's mercy is tempered, that Cranmer should be burnt alive." "Cranmer, in all this mean time, (they are the words of good John Fox) with what grief of mind he stood hearing this sermon, the outward shews of his body and countenance did better express than any man can declare; one while lifting up his hands and eyes unto heaven, and then again for shame letting them down to the earth. A man might have seen the very image and shape of perfect sorrow lively in him expressed. More than twenty several times the tears gushed out abundantly, dropping down from his fatherly face. Those which were present testify, that they never saw in any child more tears than brast out from him at that time. It is marvellous what commiseration and pity moved all men's hearts that beheld so heavy a countenance, and such abundance of tears, in an old man of so reverend dignity." The sermon ended, the preacher besought the prayers of the congregation for the dying man. They knelt accordingly, and Cranmer knelt with them, praying fervently for himself. Cole then said to him, 'Openly express the true and undoubted profession of your faith, that you may take away all suspicion from men; and that all men may understand you are a Catholic indeed." He rose then from his knees, and, after exhorting the people present not to set their minds upon the world, to obey the king and queen, to love each other, and be charitable, he made a con fession of his faith, beginning with the creed, and ending with these words, "Eternity is now before me, and I shall soon see either heaven ready to receive me, or hell ready to swallow me up. I come to the great thing which troubleth my conscience more than any thing I ever said or did in my whole life, and that is, the setting abroad of writings contrary to the truth, which now here I renounce and refuse as things written for fear of death, and to save my life, if it might be. My hand offended, writing contrary to my heart; it shall, therefore, first be punished; for, if I come to the fire, it shall first be burned. I refuse the pope as Antichrist; and, as for the sacrament, I believe as I have taught in my book against the bishop of Winchester; the which my book teacheth so true a doctrine of the sacrament, that it shall stand at the last day before the judgment of God, when the papistical doctrine, contrary thereto, shall be ashamed to shew her face." Filled with fury and disappointment, the papists pulled him from the stage, and carried him to the stake, at the spot where Ridley and Latimer had suffered. He was now urged most vehemently to recant. "I recant my recantation," was his reply. He was then bound to the stake with a chain; fire was applied to him; and, true to his promise, he held his hand there (except that once with it he wiped his face) until it was consumed. No cry was heard from him, except the cry of the protomartyr Stephen, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." The fire did its work soon; and his heart was found unconsumed amid the ashes. Such was the end of the famous Cranmer, in the 67th year of his age. We conclude his eventful and affecting history in the words of Dr. Southey, whose recommendation of the study of such lives as these we prefixed to the early part of the present memoir. "Of all the martyrdoms during this great persecu→ tion, this was, in all its circumstances, the most injurious to the Romish cause it was a manifestation of inveterate and deadly malice towards one who had borne his elevation with almost unexampled meekness. It effectually disproved the argument on which the Romanists rested, that the constancy of our martyrs proceeded not from confidence in their faith, and the strength which they derived therefrom, but from vain-glory, the pride of consistency, and the shame of retracting what they had so long professed. Such deceitful reasoning could have no place here: Cranmer had retracted; and the sincerity of his contrition for that sin was too plain to be denied, too public to be concealed, too memorable ever to be forgotten. The agony of his repentance had been seen by thousands; and tens of thousands had witnessed how, when that agony had passed, he stood calm and immovable amid the flames; a patient and willing holocaust ; triumphant, not over his persecutors alone, but over himself; over the mind as well as the body, over fear, and weakness, and death." THE REV. HENRY VENN.* D. IN the year 1763, Mr. Venn published "the Complete Duty of Man." Of this work above twenty editions have been sold: it has proved highly useful to many. Several remarkable instances of the good which it has From Memoirs of Rev. H. Venn. This produced, fell, in a very unexpected manner, under the author's own observation. A year or two after its publication, travelling in the west of England, he observed, while sitting at the window of an inn, the waiter endeavouring to assist a man who was driving some pigs on the road, while the rest of the servants amused themselves only with the difficulties which the man experienced from their frowardness. benevolent trait in the waiter's character induced Mr. Venn to call him in, and to express to him the pleasure which he felt in seeing him perform this act of kindness. After shewing him how pleasing to the Almighty every instance of good-will to our fellow-creatures was, he expatiated upon the love of God in sending his Son, from the purest benevolence, to save mankind. He exhorted him to seek for that salvation, which God, in his infinite mercy, had given as the most inestimable gift to man. He promised to send him a book which he had himself published; and, taking down the direction of the waiter, which he was very anxious to give, he sent him, upon his return to London, a copy of "the Complete Duty of Man." Many years after this, a friend, travelling to see him, brought him a letter from this very man, who then kept a large inn in the west of England, having married his former master's daughter. His friend told him, that coming to that inn on Saturday night, and proposing to stay there till Monday, he had inquired of the servants whether any of them went on Sunday to a place of worship. To his surprise, he found that they were all required to go, at least one part of the day; and that the master, with his wife and family, never failed to attend public worship, or to have family prayers; at which all the servants, who were not particularly engaged, were required to be present. Surprised by this uncommon appearance of religion, in a situation where he little expected to find it, he inquired of the landlord by what means he possessed such a sense of the importance of religion? He was told, that it was owing to a work which a gentleman had sent to him several years ago, after speaking to him, in a manner which deeply interested him, of the goodness of God in giving his Son to die for our sins. On desiring to see the book, he found it to be "the Complete Duty of Man." Rejoiced to find that his guest was going to pay a visit to Mr. Venn, he immediately wrote a letter to him, expressing, in the fulness of his heart, the obligations which he owed him, and the happiness which himself, his wife, and many of his children and domestics, enjoyed daily, in consequence of that conversation which Mr. Venn had had with him, and the book which he had sent him, which he had read again and again with increasing comfort and advantage. from the Countess of, who, though a stranger to him, requested to see him. When he waited on her ladyship, she informed him, that her husband, who had lately died abroad, had put that work into her hands, and, with his dying breath, requested her carefully to read it; adding, that for the last six months it had been his constant companion; and that he owed to it that blessed hope, which then cheered him, of an admission, through the merits and atonement of Christ, into the kingdom of heaven. He requested her also, upon her return to England, to see the author, and express his obligations to him. These were incidental and extraordinary instances of the good which Mr. Venn's work had been the means of effecting. It would be needless to recite all the instances of the benefits obtained from its perusal, which fell continually under his own observation. From Scotland, Ireland, and America, as well as in England, he received numerous testimonies to its usefulness. THE CHRISTIAN'S LIFE AND DEATH: A Sermon, BY THE REV. CHARLES GIRDLESTONE, A.M. "For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Another instance occurred at Helvoetsluys, whilst he was waiting for a fair wind to convey the packet to England. Walking upon the sea-shore, he saw a The Epistle to the Philippians, be it reperson, whom, from his dress and manner, he sup-membered, was written from Rome, where the posed to be an Englishman, and addressed him, therefore, in English, as such. The gentleman informed him that he was a Swede, though he had lived many years in England, and was well acquainted with the language and manners of that country. This circumstance induced him to enter into conversation with him. The subject of religion was soon introduced, when, to his great pleasure, he found that his companion was a decidedly religious person. The stranger invited Mr. Venn to sup with him; and then, after much interesting conversation, took out of his portmanteau a book, to which he said he owed all his impressions of religion; and, presenting it to him, asked if he had ever seen it. This was his own work; and it cost Mr. Venn no little effort to suppress those emotions of vanity which would have induced him at once to discover that he was himself the author of it. When he was once in London he received a note Apostle was at the time in bonds, and where it was reasonable to expect that his life would not long be spared. And he is here writing of the affliction which he felt in his captivity, or, rather, which some perverse disciples wished to make him feel, by preaching Christ of contention, that is to say, preaching in opposition to the doctrine which St. Paul had taught. But this, he says, will turn to his salvation, through the prayer of the Philippians, to whom he writes, and through the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ. For he is persuaded, with all boldness, that Christ will be magnified in his body; he has full assurance of hope, that in all he does and all he suffers, he shall have grace to do honour to his Lord, "whether it be by life, or by death." "For," he adds, "to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Nay, further, "If I live in the flesh, this is the fruit of my labour." To endure these vexations with cheerfulness, to be patient in this work of well-doing, this is the very end of my continuance; this is the way in which I can be most like unto my Lord, who both suffered patiently, and laboured diligently. This is the way in which my labour is fruitful, when it redounds to his honour. This is the way in which "to live is Christ," if I live like Christ, if I live to the glory of his name. "Yet what I shall choose, I wot not. For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better." For how can it fail to be far better, to be delivered from the burden of the flesh, to be exempted from the risk of sin, and from all that woe which sin has brought into the world; to see the face of our blessed Lord himself, and to dwell in the light of God's countenance for ever: how can this fail to be far better, far better than even the best of all the lives which in this world we can live, yea, even when "to live is Christ?" But let us see what is meant by thus living. Let us examine what kind of life that s, which is worthy of our Saviour's name, and which alone can justify in us a confident persuasion that "to die is gain." "To me to live is Christ." This cannot be a worldly life. This cannot be an idle life. It cannot be a life of gaiety, a life of covetousness, a life of extravagance, a life of sensual indulgence, a life of eager fondness for this world's best of blessings, a life of fruitless mourning for the loss of them. No such life as any one of these did Christ here live. No such life as any one of these would he have us here to lead. No, it is a life of devotion in our hearts towards God, it is a life of zeal in the service of God, it is a life of fervent charity towards all mankind, it is a life spent in doing good, to the utmost of our power, to all who come within our reach. It is a life founded on the conviction that Christ died for us, and that therefore we must live to him. To be trained from our earliest years in the way we ought to go, and when we are old not to depart from it; thus to live is Christ. To be born anew, as into a new world, upon our admission into covenant with God at baptism, and to live therein ever after as new creatures; thus to live is Christ. Or if at first we have fallen away from grace, if in childhood our Christian training was neglected, if the years of our youth have been wasted, if in manhood our best strength has been bestowed upon the world; still, when at any period we truly turn to God, if thenceforth we repent in earnest, believe heartily, love fervently, and obey zealously; thus to live is Christ. To live in prayer continually, in every thing to give thanks; not to pray merely at some few stated times, but often, nay always, as we go along our way, to ask of Him, who is ever nigh, that it may please him to guide us in our path; in every thing to give thanks, not just when things happen as is pleasing to ourselves, but when most our wishes are crossed, our hopes disappointed, and our too fond affections checked, still to say, God's will be done, still to thank him from our hearts for doing it; thus to live is Christ. But from a state of heart, such as has been here described, there must flow also a corresponding line of outward conduct. What we feel and what we do must be of one complexion; what we profess must be fulfilled in what we practise. He, in whom to live is Christ, must be diligent, sober, true in speech, just in his dealings, edifying in his conversation, ready to give, meek under affronts, humble, self-denying, courteous, and kind. He, in whom to live is Christ, must choose his main business in this world, and follow it whilst in this world he lives, with a single view to what Christ has ordered in his Gospel. He, in whom to live is Christ, thus choosing and following his worldly calling, when he considers that he is doing what God would have him do, does it with all his might. Early he arises to his work, that he may have more time to serve his Lord, that out of his appointed days he may secure, ere he is called on to depart, more hours for prayer and penitence, for patience and perseverance in welldoing. Quietly he pursues his business; never hurrying, for this would be to become over-careful; never slothful, for this would be forgetting that in every thing he serves the Lord. Cheerfully he endures weariness of body or of mind; contentedly he sees others outstrip himself, either in ability to succeed, or in success obtained without exertion, either in the amount of this world's blessings, or in religious privileges and spiritual proficiency. It is enough, if he has grace to do what he can. It is enough, if with the least of talents he is able to gain somewhat for his Master's glory. Well he knows, that his services, whether large or small, are of value only for Christ's sake; and that, if for Christ's sake they are accepted, it matters not how little is his own ability; for the life that he lives in the flesh, it is not, as St. Paul has written of himself, it is not he that liveth it, but Christ that liveth in him. (See Gal. ii. 20.) And therefore it is a life of contentment. It is a life of peace and joy. Those hours never hang heavy, which are enlightened by the conviction of God's presence. Those duties never weary, which our Saviour always helps us to perform. Come success, it is God that is blessing us; and therefore we are glad. Come disappointment, it is God who rebukes, and chastens; therefore we still rejoice. Come health, it is in our Lord's work we would employ it; come sickness, it is to his honour we would bear it patiently; and therefore in either case we give thanks unto his name. Come kindness from friends we love, or coldness, or their loss by death; our Saviour is still the chief of friends; it is our love for him that he would enlarge, alike by the indulgence of our affection for each other, or by its severance, if this be more needful for our good; it is our love for him that he would enlarge therefore we love him more. Nay, and though through the frailty of our nature, and through the subtlety of our adversary the devil, we should fall anew into the offences which our soul detests, have we not still the gracious promise that God will, for Christ's sake, forgive the penitent? And And as we daily confess to God, that we have erred and strayed from his ways like lost sheep, are we not also led day by day more thoroughly to put our trust in the redemption wrought for us by Christ, and to love him. because he first loved us? Such is the blessedness of a truly Christian life. Such is the happiness of those, in whom to live is Christ. And yet "to die is gain." For so has St. Paul declared of himself. And so would he have us think for ourselves also, that "to depart and to be with Christ is far better." Happy as we ought to be in this present world, we ought to know that we shall be happier in the next world. Full of peace and joy as is our course on earth, we must trust that in heaven we shall feel, what neither peace, nor joy, nor glory, nor any other word or name, can adequately express. Here we oftentimes have to feel sorrow; for it is only by our feeling it, that it ministers to our good. But there will be no more sorrow. Here we oftentimes shed tears of anguish; but there God will wipe away all tears from our eyes. Here friends are separated; but there they part no more. Here God is dishonoured; but there he is all in all. Here we still run risk of sinning; we still work out our salvation with fear and trembling, lest possibly after all we be cast away. There is no sin. There is no danger. There is possession of eternity. Faith fulfilled, the evidence of things seen, and felt, and handled; hope realised, the substance of things actually had; love made perfect, fear being cast out, coldness and selfishness being | unknown, and no affection felt but only fervent charity; this is the state into which death might bring us presently; this is the state to which it is far better to depart. But can we suppose that the change of death will yield this gain to all? Dare we hope, every one of us, for ourselves, that for ourselves to depart is better? Do we feel at any hour when death seems nigh, that if it should please God to take us hence, we could indeed rejoice with thanksgiving? Do we see with lively faith the gates of glory open? Do we hear the voice of endless praise? Do we think as though we could enjoy the thought of being joined to the company of saints, who proclaim eternal thanks to Him that sitteth on the throne? What means, then, this misgiving in our hearts? this voice which pleads with earnestness to God, "O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength, before I go hence, and be no more seen" (Ps. xxxix. 13). It is because we find that our life is not holiness, therefore we fear our death would not be glory. It is because we are not well satisfied that in us to live is Christ, therefore we cannot feel persuaded that to die would certainly be gain. The two parts of this text never may be separated. The two thoughts of the Apostle must grow up together in our minds. We cannot feel that to die is gain, unless we find that to live is Christ. We cannot; or if we can, we ought not. If we can so feel, if we trust that death will admit us into heaven, though we are not leading a life of heaven upon earth, our hope is not hope, it is presumption. And this may help us to understand how far it is well for any one to feel as St. Paul here felt; how far it is desirable to endeavour so to feel. Let us aim to feel both things at once, let us have both feelings grow together in our hearts; and then we cannot feel too much of either. Let us really live as Christ would have us; and we may then confidently hope, that when we die, he will take us to himself. But how should we dare to lie down to die, as some have done, composedly, when they have lived all their lives without God in the world? Or how shall we presume to long for death, as some are heard to do, when they are merely weary of their life, when their years have been wasted in unrepented sin, and when death itself has been brought nigh by their own self-indulgence in regret and grief? Was this the way Christ lived? Was it his own pleasure that he sought for in his life? Was it his own will that he gratified in his death? Or was it not to do his Father's will, for this He was willing even to die? Was it not to finish his Father's work, for this He endured to live? And what was St. Paul's conclusion for himself, when he thought of his brethren whom in death he would have to leave; "Nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more needful for you. And having this confidence, I know that I shall abide and continue with you all, for your furtherance and joy of faith" (ver. 24, 25). What a signal proof is this, that in the heart of the Apostle love for the brethren prevailed over regard for himself! Let us watch that there be nothing selfish in our longing to depart. We cannot too earnestly seek for heaven; this is not selfishness. We cannot too highly prize the recompense of the reward; this is not selfishness. But when we would gain to ourselves by another's loss, this is to be selfish. Let us therefore first attain to feeling that we could continue here with joy, for the furtherance of the joy and faith of others; and we may then, with less risk of disappointment, be persuaded, that our death, if it should happen, would be gain. Let us be living cheerfully, and thankfully, doing what we have to do on earth with all our might, as service profitable to our brethren, and acceptable unto God through Christ; and we may then say, like Simeon, when our summons comes, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace" (Luke, ii. 29). And what a heavenly frame of mind is this to live in! All that we are here doing, to feel that it is God's work; all that we are here suffering, to be persuaded that it is God's will; all that we yet fear to suffer, to be able to say heartily, thy will be done; all that we can be called upon yet more to do, to be fully purposed to do it as Christ would have us, with no view but to his honour, and to the good of our fellow-creatures! And what a help is this towards living thus in joy, to be persuaded that we shall die in peace, to feel convinced, that whenever death shall come, it will be to us the gate of everlasting life! Now we have no fear, but hope, for the future; then we shall have the consummation of our hope. Now we may be sorrowful; but it is as always rejoicing; then we shall not have sorrow, even slight as this; then we shall have no yoke to bear, however easy, no burden to carry, however light; but instead of the sufferings of this present life, we shall on our departure straightway be with Christ. These feelings may to some appear extravagant, because they are far beyond what many respected Christians appear to entertain. But are they beyond what God's word justifies? Are they more than St. Paul in this passage has intimated? Are they more than we ought to try to compass, if we would walk by the light of his example, in the steps of our Saviour Christ? If not, it must be profitable to all, thus to contemplate the height of Christian devotion, thus to survey the riches of that promised land, which nothing hinders us from entering but our sins. As to the thoroughly worldly-minded, the lovers of carnal pleasure, the covetous, the drunken, the profane, how utterly must the feelings here described reprove their gross offences, and bring them in guilty, before their own consciences, of most wide departure from the will of God. To those who lead a decent sober life, but whose hearts are all the while proud and selfish, who are all the while lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God, this triumphant expression of St. Paul in the text may be no less useful, by way of warning that the religion which passes current with the world is far short of what God requires. But it is to encourage the devout in their devotion; it is to stir up to further holiness, and zeal, and love, those who are already holy, zealous, and affectionate; this is the most fitting application of the text, this is the use to which I have chiefly now endeavoured to apply it. Go on, then, I would in conclusion say, go on, thou faithful servant of the Lord, go on, in thy way, rejoicing. To thee let to live be Christ. Believe stedfastly in the atonement of his most precious death. Continually practise the graces which were manifested in his most holy life. Be patient in well doing, joyful in tribulation, free to give, ready to forgive, willing to make allowances for the infirmities of others, diligent to search out and amend your own. Be instant in prayer; and daily be more instant. In every thing give thanks; and daily thank more in every thing. Live as though you were daily looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of God. And lo, whilst yet you look, whilst thus by God's help you make good speed, that day shall come, or else God shall first mercifully take you to himself; and when most you are contented, out of faith and love, to live as Christ, you shall attain unto that death which is eternal gain! THE ISLE OF WIGHT.*-No. 2. I HAD visited the most prominent spots described in the "Dairyman's Daughter" and "Young Cottager;" and now wished to see those which had attracted my attention in the "Negro Servant." I had seen at a distance the recess of Sandown Bay, where the conversation on the sea-shore with that humble and devoted disciple had occurred, but was obliged at that On the time to be contented with a glance afar off. Wednesday following (July 14th), I had the happiness to stand upon the spot, and indulge myself with the perusal of the tract amidst the very scenes which it so beautifully describes. From the Journal of the Editor of the Philadelphia Episcopal Recorder, who accompanied Dr. Milnor on his tour. |