ports of joy were over, and the fine edge of delight blunted. He many years after called that day one of the days of heaven, and professed he understood more of the life of heaven by it than by all the books he ever read, or discourses he ever entertained about it.

A Wheel within a Wheel.

Lord! how stupendous, deep, and wonderful,
Are all thy draughts of Providence! so full
Of puzzling intricacies, that they lie

Beyond the ken of any mortal eye.

"A wheel within a wheel" 's the Scripture notion,

And all those wheels transverse, and cross in motion.

All creatures serve it in their place; yet so

As thousands of them know not what they do.

At this or that their aim they do direct;

But neither this nor that is the effect:

But something else they do not understand,
Which sets all politicians at a stand.

Deep counsels at their birth this Hand doth break,
And deeper things performeth by the weak.

Men are, like horses, set at every stage,

For Providence to ride from age to age;

Which, like a post, spurs on, and makes them run
From stage to stage, until their journey's done;
Then takes a fresh: But they the business know
No more than horses the post-letters do.
Yet though its work be not conceal'd from sight,
'Twill be a glorious piece when brought to light.

JOHN HOWE.

FOR lofty symmetry, the mind of Howe has had few equals among the sons of men; and had his powers of expression kept pace with the grandeur of his conceptions and the fervour of his emotions, he would have been peerless among the theological authors of his century. As it is, no wise man will disdain a heap of treasure, because it contains some jewels badly set, or because there are a few mis-shapen bars and ingots mixed up with bags of minted money.

Like Flavel, Howe was the son of a godly minister, and was born in the parsonage of Longborough, Leicestershire, May 17, 1630.

He commenced his university career at Cambridge, but was early transferred to Oxford, where he became Fellow of Magdalen College, and a member of the Congregational Church under the pastorate of Magdalen's illustrious president, Dr Thomas Goodwin.

When he could not have completed his twenty-third year, he was appointed minister of great Torrington, in Devon. There a few years passed very happily. There he married the daughter of Mr Hughes of Plymouth, a minister famed for his learning, and revered for his goodness. There he formed the friendship of the noble family of Russell; and there he preached courses of sermons, which, published as treatises on "The Blessedness of the Righteous," and "On Delighting in God," are likely to live for ever.

He had not completed four years at Torrington, when he had an errand to London. On the last Sabbath of his sojourn in the capital, he went to worship in Whitehall Chapel. There the keen eye of Cromwell singled him out, and at the close of

the service he was summoned to an interview, when the protector commanded him to preach at Whitehall next Sunday. The upshot was, that, much against his own inclination, he was constrained to become one of Cromwell's chaplains; and, both in Whitehall and in St Margaret's, Westminster, he continued to deliver those discourses which fed the faith of the simpleminded, and bowed in unreluctant homage the strongest understandings. With Cromwell his personal influence was very great, and he used it nobly. As one example, it is mentioned that he did his utmost to obtain for Dr Seth Ward, afterwards Bishop of Exeter, and one of the most distinguished mathematicians in England, the principalship of Jesus' College. Cromwell had already promised the appointment to another; but, in consequence of Howe's intercessions for his Episcopalian friend, the protector promised to allow him a yearly sum equal to the income of the office. The exalted purity and disinterestedness of the chaplain's own character made his persuasions irresistible. On one occasion, Cromwell exclaimed, "You have obtained many favours for others. I wonder when the time is to come that you will ask anything for yourself or your family."

The Restoration released Mr Howe from his post of chaplain to the younger Cromwell, and for a brief season allowed him to resume his charge at Torrington. But the time of trouble had arrived. In 1662 the Act of Uniformity was passed, and, without re-ordination and the oath of canonical obedience, Howe could not retain his living or his charge. By this time his friend Dr Ward was his diocesan, and, endeavouring to argue him out of his scruples, asked him to name any point on which he hesitated. Howe specified re-ordination. "Pray, sir," said the bishop, "what hurt is there in being re-ordained?" Hurt, my lord!" exclaimed Howe; "it hurts my understanding; the thought is shocking. It is an absurdity, since nothing can have two beginnings. I am sure I am a minister

of Christ, and am ready to debate that matter with your lordship if your lordship pleases; but I cannot begin again to be a minister."

For several years Howe suffered most of the hardships incident to an outed minister; but in 1671 he was invited to become chaplain to Viscount Massarene, at Antrim Castle, Ireland. On his journey thither a little circumstance occurred which shews how great must have been his power in preaching. The ship, with a large company on board, was wind-bound in Holyhead harbour; and on the Sunday morning Mr Howe and some of the passengers were proceeding along the shore in search of a convenient place for worship. There they met two men on horseback, who proved to be the parson and the clerk. One of the travellers asked the latter if his master would preach that day. "My master," was the reply, "is only accustomed to read prayers." Would he have any objections to allow a minister now in town, awaiting a passage to Ireland, to occupy his pulpit that day? The clerk believed that his master would be perfectly willing; and so it proved. The clergyman gave his consent, and Howe preached twice-in the afternoon to a large and deeply affected auditory. But all that week the wind continued contrary, and next Sabbath morning the church was crowded with people, who hoped once more to hear the stranger. The clergyman was confounded at the sight of such a congregation, and despatched his clerk to fetch the unknown preacher. Mr Howe was sick, and in bed, but when he heard that "the whole country had come in for several miles to hear him," he rose, and, forgetful of any personal risk, preached with unwonted warmth and energy; and when afterwards he related the occurrence, he added, "If my ministry was ever of any use, I think it must have been then."

Howe remained at Antrim Castle five years, and early in 1676 came to London, to assume the pastorate of the church in Silver Street. Here the hostile spirit of the government made

VOL. II.

it an anxious and interrupted ministry; and in 1685, accepting an invitation from Philip, Lord Wharton, to attend him in his travels, he settled at Utrecht, and, beside Gilbert Burnet and other refugees, he there continued, till the expulsion of the Stewarts made it safe to live and lawful to preach in England.

In Holland he had been admitted to the friendship of the Prince of Orange, and, in resuming his ministry at Silver Street, he occupied a position quite as honourable as that to which his brethren, Tillotson and Burnet, were promoted, and in those days of difficulty more independent and more happy. His blameless life, his commanding intellect, his conciliatory spirit, and his advancing years made him the centre of a very general reverence and affection; and as he approached the close of his pilgrimage, his spiritual consolations seemed to multiply. All records of his personal experience were destroyed in obedience to his dying injunction, but the following remarkable record, inscribed on his study Bible, has been preserved :— "Dec. 26, '89.-After that I had long seriously and repeatedly thought with myself, that besides a full and undoubted assent to the objects of faith, a vivifying savoury taste and relish of them was also necessary, that with stronger force and more powerful energy, they might penetrate into the most inward centre of my heart, and there being most deeply fixed and rooted, govern my life; and that there could be no other suré ground whereon to conclude and pass a sound judgment on my good state Godward; and after I had in my course of preaching been largely insisting on 2 Cor. i. 12; this very morning I awoke out of a most ravishing and delightful dream, that a wonderful and copious stream of celestial rays, from the lofty throne of the Divine majesty, seemed to dart into my expanded breast. I have often since, with great complacency reflected on that very signal pledge of special Divine favour vouchsafed to me on that memorable day, and have with repeated fresh pleasure tasted the delights thereof. But what on