about what we know not, than to practise the far greater embroil the church with impertinencies? If a man things we know, and which more directly tend to nourish and maintain the divine life. The author of that ingenious sentence, Pruritus disputandi scabies ecclesiæ, whoever he were, hath fitly expressed what is the noisome product of the itch of disputing. It hath begot the ulcerous tumours, which beside their own offensive soreness, drain the body, and turn what should nourish that into nutriment to themselves. And its effects are not more grievous, than the pleasures which it affects and pursues are uncouth and unnatural. The rough touch of an ingentle hand; that only pleases which exasperates; (as Seneca the moralist aptly expresses some like disaffection of diseased minds;) toil and vexation is their only delight; and what to a sound spirit would be a pain, is to these a pleasure.

'Which is indeed the triumph of the disease, that it adds unto torment, reproach and mockery, and imposes upon men by so ridiculous a delusion, (while they are made to take pleasure in punishing themselves,) that even the most sober can scarcely look on in a fitter posture than with a compassionate smile. All which were yet somewhat more tolerable, if that imagined vanishing pleasure were not the whole of their gain; or if it were to be hoped that so great a present real pain and smart, should be recompensed with as real a consequent fruit and advantage. But we know that generally, by how much any thing is more disputable, the less it is necessary or conducible to the Christian life. God hath graciously provided, that what we are to live by, should not cost us so dear. And possibly as there is the less occasion of disputing about the more momentous things of religion, so there may be somewhat more of modesty and awe, in reference to what is so confessedly venerable and sacred, (though too many are over-bold even here also,) than so foolishly trifle with such things. Therefore more commonly, where that humour prevails, men divert from those plainer things, with some slighter and more superficial reverence to them, but more heartily esteeming them insipid and jejune, because they have less in them to gratify their appetite, and betake themselves to such things about which they may more plausibly contend. And then what pitiful trifles often take up their time and thoughts! questions and problems of like weighty importance (very often) with those which Seneca tells us this disease among the Greeks prompted them to trouble themselves about! as, what number of rowers Ulysses had? which was written first, the Iliad or the Odysses? so that (as he saith) they spend their lives very operosely doing nothing: their conceits being such, that if they kept them to themselves they could yield them no fruit, and if they published them to others, they should not seem thereby the more learned, but the more troublesome. And is it not (says he) to be resented, that men should sell away the solid strength and vital joy, which a serious soul would find in substantial religion, for such toys? yea, and not only famish themselves, but trouble the world, and

be drawn forth, to defend an important truth against an injurious assault, it were treacherous self-love to purchase his own peace by declining it. Or if he did sometimes turn his thoughts to some of our petite questions, that with many are so hotly agitated, for recreation sake, or to try his wit, and exercise his reason without stirring his passions, to the disturbance of others or himself; here an innocent divertisement is the best purpose that things of that nature are capable of serving. But when contention becomes a man's element, and he cannot live out of that fire; strains his wit, and racks his invention to find matter of quarrel; is resolved nothing said or done by others shall please him, only because he means to please himself in dissenting; disputes only that he may dispute, and loves dissension for itself; this is the unnatural humour that hath so unspeakably troubled the church, and debased religion, and filled men's souls with wind and vanity, yea with fire and fury. This hath made Christians gladiators, and the Christian world a clamorous theatre, while men have equally affected to contend, and to make ostentation of their ability to do so,' &c.

Some time after this, he was earnestly invited by a person of considerable quality into Ireland, and had generous offers made him. He accepted the motion with the greater readiness, and looked upon it as the more providential, because by this time he was reduced to straits, and his circumstances were but low; which is not at all to be wondered at, considering that he had for some years been out of any settled employment, and had but a small income, several in family, and a generous spirit of his own, which inclined him upon all occasions to make the best figure he was able. He set sail for Dublin (as I am informed) in the beginning of April, 1671. And here I have a memorable passage to relate, which I have from such hands, that I cannot question the truth of it. When he went for Ireland, taking his eldest son along with him, he was for embarking at a town in Wales, the name of which my informant has forgotten, but I suppose it was Holy-head. The wind not serving to carry them off, they continued there a Lord's day, and found a large parish church, in which prayers only were to be read as usually, but no preaching was expected. The company that was with Mr. Howe and waited for a wind, were pretty numerous, and they were desirous to find out some private place by the sea-side, where he might preach to them. As they were walking along the sands in search of some such place, they met two men on horseback riding towards the town, who proved to be the parson of the parish and his clerk. The clerk was asked by one in the company whether his master preached that day? No, said he, my master does not use to preach, he only reads prayers. Upon which it was farther inquired whether he thought his master would be willing to give leave to a minister that was in their company, who was going for Ireland, but waiting for a wind, to make use of his pulpit that day in his room? He answered he believed very willingly,

and they found it so, when the clerk had once made the motion to him. Hereupon Mr. Howe and the rest of them returned back to the town, and he preached that day twice to them in the church; and in the afternoon the auditory was very large, and seemed to be not a little affected with what was delivered. The wind not serving all the week following, the country all round those parts took notice that neither the vessel nor the minister were gone; and therefore on the Lord's day after, they came flocking into the town, expecting he would preach that day also. There was a prodigious multitude gathered together; and the parson, who had had no thoughts about the matter, nor made the least motion for any further assistance from the stranger, observing it, was in no small consternation. Preach himself he could not; for he had not of a long time been used to it, and he was altogether unprovided; and if he did not employ the stranger, it would lessen his reputation greatly: but then he did not know, whether as things stood, he could be able to prevail with him. However he sent his clerk to Mr. Howe, and begged he would come and preach again, for that otherwise he knew not what to do, the country being come in from several miles round, in hope of hearing him. Mr. Howe having been much indisposed, was in bed, and in a great sweat, when he received the message, and that made him at first doubtful whether he had best venture to comply. But considering with himself that here was a plain call of Providence, and not knowing but much good might be done in such a place, where preaching was so uncommon a thing, and the people seemed so desirous of the word of God, he sent word he would do it; and cooled himself with as much speed as he was able with safety, and cast himself upon God, and went and preached with great life and freedom: and he told my informant, that he never in all his life saw people more moved, or receive the word with greater pleasure. And he at the same time added these words, 'if my ministry was ever of any use, I think it must be then.' Very soon after, the vessel went off, and he found no ill effects or consequences at all, of the pains he took in such circumstances.

lished a noble discourse upon 'The Vanity of this mortal Life, or of Man considered only in this present mortal State,' from Psal. lxxxi. 47, 48. which discourse is usually bound up with his 'Blessedness of the Righteous.' There is an epistle before this sermon dated from Antrim in 1671, to John Upton, of Lupton in Devon, Esq. his kinsman, signifying that it was composed upon occasion of the death of Anthony Upton, son of the said John, who had lived between twenty and thirty years in Spain, and had promised to return home; and being earnestly expected, a sudden disease in so few days landed him in another world, that the first notice his friends had of his death or sickness, was by the arrival of that vessel (clad in mourning attire) which brought over the deserted body to its native place of Lupton; which providence was therefore the more affecting, because a meeting of the several branches of the family, who lived at distant places, having been appointed, the place and occasion and design of it was this way altered; and no less than twenty, the brothers and sisters of the deceased, or their consorts, besides many nephews and nieces, and other relations, were brought together to the mournful solemnity of the interment. It has been the judgment of many, that this discourse is as noble a piece of true theological oratory, as can be easily met with.

In 1674 he published his treatise of 'Delighting in God,' which was the substance of some sermons he had preached twenty years before to the people of Torrington, with some additions and enlargements. He dedicated them to his old friends, the inhabitants of that town, by a masculine, but at the same time most tender and affectionate, epistle to them from Antrim, in which he gives such an account of himself, as may very well heighten our idea of him. Speaking of the sermons which he then published, he expresses himself in this glorious manner.

'They aim (says he) at the promoting of the same end, which the course of my poor labours among you did, (as he that knoweth all things knoweth,) the serious practice of the great things of religion, which are known, and least liable to question; without designing to engage you to or against any party of them that differ about circumstantial matters. They tend to let you see, that formality in any way of religion, unaccompanied with life, will not serve your turn, (as it will no man's,) than which there is nothing more empty, sapless, and void both of profit and delight. I have reflected and considered with some satisfaction, that this hath been my way, and the temper of my mind among you. Great reason I have to repent, that I have not with greater earnestness pressed upon you the known and important things wherein serious Christians do generally agree: but I repent not I have been so little engaged in the hot contests of our age, about the things wherein they differ. For as I pretend to little light in these things, (whence I could not have much confidence to fortify me to such an undertaking,) so I must profess to have little inclinaIn the very year in which he settled here, he pub- tion to contend about matters of that kind. Nor yet

At length he had his whole family with him in Ireland, where he lived as chaplain to the Lord Massarene in the parish of Antrim, and was received and treated with all imaginable respect. His great learning and Christian temper, (together with that lord's interest and influence,) procured him the particular friendship of the bishop of that diocese, who, (together with his metropolitan,) without demanding any conformity, gave him free liberty to preach in the public church in that town, every Lord's day in the afternoon: and I have been informed that the archbishop in a pretty full meeting of the clergy, told them frankly, that he would have Mr. Howe have every pulpit (where he had any concern) open to him, in which he at any time was free to preach. And he manifested his truly peaceable and Christian spirit, both in his preaching and conversation, and was useful to many.

view and judge of things upon the spot. He upon this occasion, which created him a great many thoughts, and in which he looked seriously upwards for conduct, committed some hints to writing, which have been preserved, and are here faithfully transcribed from an authentic copy.

The paper is inscribed after this manner. Considerations and Communings with myself concern ing my present Journey, Dec. 20, 75. By Night on my Bed,

'I. Quære; Have I not an undue design or self-rispect in it?

'1. I know well I ought not to have any design for myself, which admits not of subordination to the interest and honour of the great God, and my Redeemer, and which is not actually so subordinated.

'2. I understand the fearful evil and sinfulness of having such an undue design; that it is idolatry, the taking another god, and making myself that god.

3. I find (through God's mercy) some sensible stirrings of hatred and detestation, in my breast, of that wickedness, and a great apprehension of the loveliness and beauty of a state of pure entire devotedness to God in Christ, and of acting accordingly.

am I indifferent as to these smaller things, that I cannot discern to be in their own nature so. But though I cannot avoid to think that course right which I have deliberately chosen therein, I do yet esteem that but a small thing upon which to ground an opinion of my exceeding them that think otherwise, as if I knew more than they. For I have often recounted thus seriously with myself, that of every differing party (in those circumstantial matters) I do particularly know some persons by whom I find myself much excelled, in much greater things than is the matter of that difference. I cannot ('tis true) thereupon say and think every thing that they do; which is impossible, since they differ from one another as well as me; and I understand well there are other measures of truth, than this or that excellent person's opinion: but I thereupon reckon I have little reason to be conceited of any advantage I have of such in point of knowledge; (even as little as he would have, that can sing or play well on a lute, of him that knows how to command armies or govern a kingdom;) and can with the less confidence differ from them, or contend with them. Being thereby, though I cannot find that I err in these matters, constrained to have some suspicion lest I do; and to admit it possible enough, that some of them who differ from me, having much more light in greater matters, may have so in these also. Besides that I most seriously think, hu- '4. I have insisted on this chiefly in prayer to God, mility, charity, and patience would more contribute to in reference to this business, ever since it was set on the composing of these lesser differences, or to the good foot, that I might be sincere in it: and though I have estate of the Christian interest under them, than the earnestly begged light to guide me therein, so as that most fervent disputes and contestations. I have upon I might do that herein which in the substance of the such considerations little concerned myself in contend- thing is agreeable to the holy will of God, yet I have ing for one way or another, while I was among you; much more importunately prayed that I might be sinor in censuring such as have differed from me, in such cere in what I do, not only because I know God will notions and practices as might consist with our com- pardon ignorance (unremedied by utmost endeavours) mon great end; or as imported not manifest hostility where he beholds sincerity, whereas he will never acthereto: contenting myself to follow the course that to cept the knowledge of our duty, nor the doing what is my preponderating judgment seemed best, without in substance our duty, if that right manner of doing it, stepping out of my way to jostle others. But I cannot or principle whence it is done, be wanting; but, also, be so patient of their practical disagreement (not only from the higher esteem I have of sincerity, aboye all with all serious Christians, but even their own judg-light and knowledge without it, and the greater excel. ments and consciences also) who have no delight in God, and who take no pleasure in the very substance of religion,' &c. We may from hence take our measures of him both as a minister and a divine; and can hardly forbear making this reflection, that it would be an unspeakable happiness, did but such a spirit as this prevail more among all the parties into which we are divided.

In 1675, upon the death of Dr. Lazarus Seaman, he had an invitation given him to come and fix in London, by a part of his congregation, and was earnestly pressed to accept of their call. There was some difference among them about the person in whom they should centre. Some were for Mr. Charnock, and others for Mr. Howe: and though they that wrote to him urged a variety of arguments and inducements, yet he could not so well judge of the matters alleged at a distance; and was thereupon prevailed with to take a voyage into England, and make a visit at 1ondon, that he might

lence of the thing itself.

5. I have carefully examined what selfish respects I can have in this matter. Is it worldly emolument ? In this my heart acquits me in the sight of God. Is it that I affect to be upon a public stage, to be popular and applauded by men? To this I say, (1.) That I do verily believe, that I shall be lower in the eye and esteem of the people in London, when I come under their nearer view. I know myself incapable of pleasing their genius. I cannot contrive nor endure to preach with elaborate artifice. They will soon be weary, when they hear nothing but plain discourses of such matters as are not new to them. Yea, and ministers that now judge of me by what I have written, (when matter and words were in some measure weighed,) will find me, when I converse with them, slow to apprehend things, slow to express my own apprehensions, unready, entangled, and obscure in my apprehensions and expressions: so that all will soon say, this is not the man

III. Quære; Am I not afraid of miscarrying in this not only often disabled by pain, but weakness. And

and takes care of sparrows, will he not take care of this, that it is inconceivable, that the holy and good you? are you of his family, and will he not take care of his own? instead of distrust and repining, give thanks. O bless him with all your soul, that he hath revealed and given himself to you for an everlasting portion; and whose covenant is to be your God, and the God of yours.

'8. Let it be some satisfaction to you, that I go willingly, under no dread, with no regret, but with some comfortable knowledge of my way and end.'

With such thoughts and workings of mind as these, did he undertake and pursue his voyage and journey, and he arrived safe at London after having been five years in Ireland: and upon mature consideration, he accepted of the call that had been given him, and settled there, and made a quiet and peaceable use of King Charles's indulgence, preaching to a considerable and judicious auditory, by whom he was singularly respected; and he was much esteemed, not only by his brethren in the ministry among the dissenters, but also by several eminent divines of the church of England, as Dr. Whitchcot, Dr. Kidder, Dr. Fowler, Dr. Lucas, and others, whom he often conversed with, and that with great freedom and familiarity.

He was no sooner settled here, tnan he printed the first part of his 'Living Temple,' by which it was his design to improve that notion, that a good man is the Temple of God. This first part is upon God's existence, and his conversableness with man; and against Atheism, or the Epicurean deism. 'Tis dedicated to the Lord Viscount Massarene, governor of the county of London-Derry, and one of the lords of his majesty's most honourable privy-council in the kingdom of Ireland and he signifies to his lordship, that this tract was conceived under his roof, and born out of his house; and that he therefore thought it decent and just, that it should openly own the relation which it thereby had, and the author's great obligations, to his lordship.

:

God should irresistibly determine the wills of men to and punish the same thing; that he should irresistibly determine the will of a man to the hatred of his own most blessed self, and then exact severest punishments for the offence done,' which the strictest Calvinist has not the least occasion (as far as I can perceive) to scruple to acknowledge. This notion widely differs from asserting the blessed God universally to have left his reasonable creatures an indetermined power, with respect to all actions, good as well as evil, to the utter exclusion of efficacious grace, in reference even to the best actions that are. 'Tis that that is the true Arminian principle, if we may be allowed to pass a judgment, from the works of the most eminent writers that are in that scheme. If all are great and strict Arminians, who cannot allow themselves to suppose the blessed God, by internal influence, to have a hand even in the worst and wickedest actions, as far as in the best, I am persuaded there will be very few remaining but what are such, either here at home, or in any of the reformed churches abroad. As to Mr. Howe, he was so well satisfied in the firmness of the grounds he went upon, that at last he did not stick to declare, that 'if he found himself any way obliged further to intermeddle in this matter, he should reckon the time he had to spend in this world could never be spent to better purpose, than in discovering the fearful consequences of the opposite opinion, the vanity of the subterfuges whereby its assertors think to hide the malignity of it, and the inefficacy of the arguments brought for it.'

But this was what he had no occasion for, God had cut out other work for him. He went on quietly in a course of practical preaching in his stated ministry, and was very useful in forwarding many in their way to heaven.

In the time of the popish plot, when things took a quite different turn from what they had done from the restoration till then, and the city and whole body of the nation was full of terror and melancholy apprehen

In the year 1677, he published a tract, entitled, 'The Reconcileableness of God's Prescience of the Sins of Mensions, he made it his endeavour among those with whom with the Wisdom and Sincerity of his Counsels and Exhortations, and whatever other Means he uses to prevent them' written by way of Letter to the Honourable Robert Boyle, Esq. This treatise was exceedingly admired by some, and as much opposed by others. Mr. Theophilus Gale, in particular, his old fellow-collegiate, publishing about this time his fourth part of 'The Court of the Gentiles,' made some animadversions upon it. Whereupon Mr. Howe added a Postscript, in defence of the said Letter, in which he makes a return to Mr. Gale's remarks. Mr. Danson also wrote against this tract, but I know not that Mr. Howe took any notice of him; though the ingenious Andrew Marvel, Esq. made a very witty and entertaining reply to him. Upon the account of this performance of his, Mr. Wood represents Mr. Howe as a great and strict Arminian; but very wrongfully. For that which he mainly asserts in that discourse, is no more than

z See Court of the Gentiles, part 1. page 522.

he had to do, to make the awful impressions which people were at that time under, serviceable to the purposes of serious religion: and in his conversation with the clergy of the established church, or with persons of quality and distinction, which was not unfrequent, he upon all occasions discovered a very peaceable and healing spirit, often giving it as his sense, that an accommodation of matters between the church and the dissenters, would be the most effectual way to keep out popery. And it has been the opinion of many, that a fitter season for a union could not well occur, than did then present itself. The House of Commons who sat at Westminster in 1680, seem to have been of that mind, and therefore they brought in a bill for uniting his majesty's protestant subjects, and nothing was more commonly talked of at that time. And not being able to go through with it, they, before they rose, came to a resolution, that the acts of parliament made in the