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1812-1816.

THE REV. JOSIAH PRATT.

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temper in which it was delivered. His commanding person*, his benevolent and highly intellectual expression of countenance, his full-toned voice, together with his manly yet playful eloquence, electrified the assembly, and many were those on that day who rejoiced that so noble and just a cause had obtained so strenuous and able an advocate."

Some indications have been already given of the increasing power of religious principle in Mr. Buxton's mind; but he had not yet been fully brought under its influence, nor had he acquired clear views as to some of the fundamental truths of Christianity. In 1811, he was induced by the advice of his friend the Rev. Robert Hankinson, to attend the ministry of the Rev. Josiah Pratt, in Wheeler Chapel, Spitalfields: and to the preaching of that excellent clergyman he attributed, with the liveliest gratitude, his first real acquaintance with the doctrines of Christianity. He himself "It was much and of vast moment that I there learned from Mr. Pratt." He wrote to Mr. Pratt thirty years afterwards, "Whatever I have done in my life for Africa, the seeds of it were sown in my heart, in Wheeler Street Chapel."

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His mind, ever disposed (in Bacon's words) to "prefer things of substance, before things of show". with a strong love for truth, and susceptible of deep feeling afforded, perhaps, a fit soil for the reception of those truths, which at length struck deep root there. On the other hand, he regarded his tendency to become wholly absorbed in the work before him as

* Mr. Buxton was upwards of six feet four inches in height; but his powerful frame and broad chest rendered his height less ap

a great bar to his progress in higher things. Thus he writes to one of his relatives at Earlham :

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Hampstead, March 21. 1812. "I had determined, before I received your last letter, to thank you, dear C, myself, for much pleasure, and I think a little profit (much less than it ought to have been), in observing the progress of your mind. It does indeed give me real joy to see you and others of your family striving in your race with such full purpose of heart; and the further I feel left behind-the more I feel engaged in other pursuits -so much the more I admire and love the excellence, which I hardly endeavour to reach: and so much the more I perceive the infinite superiority of your objects over mine.

"When I contrast your pursuits with my pursuits, and your life with my life, I always feel the comparison a wholesome and a humiliating lesson, and it makes me see the ends for which I labour in their proper light; and my heart is ready to confess, that Thou hast chosen the good part, which shall not be taken from thee.' How is it then, with this contrast constantly staring me in the face whenever I think seriously, that it has no effect, or next to none, on my practice? I see the excellence of the walk you have chosen, and the madness of dedicating myself to any thing, but to the preparation of that journey which I must so shortly take. I know, that if success shall crown all my projects, I shall gain that which will never satisfy me, that which is not bread.' I know the poverty of our most darling schemesthe meanness of our most delicious prospects - the transitoriness of our most durable possessions-when weighed against that fulness of joy and eternity of bliss which are the reward of those who seek them aright. All this I see with the utmost certainty that two and two make four is not clearer; and how is it, then, that with these speculative opinions, my practical ones are so entirely different? I am irritable about trifles, eager after pleasures, and anxious about business various objects of this kind engross my attention at all times; they pursue me even to Meeting and to Church,

1812-1816.

DANGEROUS ILLNESS.

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and seem to grudge the few moments which are devoted to higher considerations, and strive to bring back to the temple of the Lord the sellers, and the buyers, and the moneychangers. My reason tells me, that these things are utterly indifferent; but my practice says, that they only are worthy of thought and attention. My practice says, 'Thou art increased with goods, and hast need of nothing;' but my reason teaches me, Thou art wretched and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.'

"I have in this letter divulged the train of thinking which is constantly recurring to my mind. . . . . . . If I have said too much in any part of this letter, I am sure I do not go beyond the truth in saying, that hardly any thing comes so near my heart, as my love for my sweet sisters."

The period had now arrived, from which may be dated that ascendancy of religion over his mind which gave shape and colouring to the whole of his after life.

In the commencement of the year 1813, he was visited by an illness which brought him to the brink of the grave. How momentous an era he felt this to have been, we may learn from the following paper, written after his recovery :

"Feb. 7. 1813.

"After so severe an illness as that with which I have lately been visited, it may be advantageous to record the most material circumstances attendant upon it. May my bodily weakness, and the suddenness with which it came, remind me of the uncertainty of life; and may the great and immediate mercy, bestowed upon me spiritually, be a continual memorial, that the Lord is full of compassion, and long suffering,' and 'a very present help in trouble!'

"I was seized with a bilious fever, in January. When I first felt myself unwell, I prayed that I might have a dangerous illness, provided that illness might bring me nearer to

my God. I gradually grew worse; and when the disorder had assumed an appearance very alarming to those about me, I spent nearly an hour in most fervent prayer. I have been, for some years, perplexed with doubts; I do not know if they did not arise more from the fear of doubting, than from any other cause. The object of my prayer was, that this perplexity might be removed; and the next day, when I set about examining my mind, I found that it was entirely removed, and that it was replaced by a degree of certain conviction, totally different from any thing I had before experienced. It would be difficult to express the satisfaction and joy which I derived from this alteration. Now know

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I that my Redeemer liveth' was the sentiment uppermost in my mind, and in the merits of that Redeemer I felt a confidence that made me look on the prospect of death with perfect indifference. No one action of my life presented itself with any sort of consolation. I knew that by myself I stood justly condemned; but I felt released from the penalties of sin, by the blood of our sacrifice. In Him was all my trust. My dear wife gave me great pleasure by repeating this text This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.' Once or twice only I felt some doubt whether I did not deceive myself, arguing in this manner :- How is it, that I, who have passed so unguarded a life, and who have to lament so many sins, and especially so much carelessness in religion - how is it that I feel at once satisfied and secure in the acceptance of my Saviour?' But I soon was led to better thoughts. Canst thou pretend to limit the mercies of the Most High? His thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor his ways as our ways.' He giveth to the labourer of an hour as much as to him who has borne the heat of the day. These were my reflections, and they made me casy."

When the medical gentleman who attended him, observed that he must be in low spirits, "Very far from it," he replied: "I feel a joyfulness at heart which would enable me to go through any pain." "From faith

1812-1816.

ITS EFFECT ON HIS MIND.

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in Christ?" he was asked. "Yes, from faith in Christ" was his reply; and, mentioning the clear view he now had of Christ being his Redeemer, he said, "It is an inexpressible favour, beyond my deserts. What have I done all my life long? Nothing, nothing, that did God service, and for me to have such mercy shown! My hope," he added, "is to be received as one of Christ's flock, to enter heaven as a little child." And a day or two afterwards he said, "I shall never again pass negligently over that passage in the Prayer Book, 'We bless thee . . . for thine inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ;'" and he broke forth into thanksgiving for the mercy, "the unbounded, the unmerited love," displayed towards him, in having the Christian doctrine brought home to his heart. Again and again he declared how glad and thankful he was for his illness, and, at the same time, how anxious he felt lest the impression it had made upon him should become effaced.

After his recovery he thus writes to Earlham.

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Perhaps you might think that your letters were not sufficiently valued by me if they remained unnoticed; they were both truly welcome, especially where they described your feelings, at the prospect of the termination (I earnestly hope only the earthly termination) of our long and faithful union. My wife tells me that she said in her letter, that I mentioned you all in my illness. This was but a languid description of the extent and force of love I felt towards you, and of gratitude to you to whom I owe so great a portion of all that has been pleasant to me in my past life, and perhaps much of that which was consolatory to me at that awful but happy period. C calls it a chastisement, but I never felt it as such. I looked upon it when I was at the worst (and have not yet ceased to do so) as a gift, and a blessing, and

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