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when others cast them off, though to his disadvantage. How generally she was beloved by the poor, was witnessed by that bitter lamentation which spread from house to house at the news of her death. Besides mercy to their bodies she had great compassion for their souls, and examined, instructed, and admonished poor ignorant creatures. It was her usual practice to help many poor children to learning, by buying them books, sending them to school and paying masters for teaching, whereby many a parent blessed God for help by their children's reading, who were formerly deprived of that benefit.

She laid to heart very heavily the sins and sufferings of others. The dishonour of God was the burden of her soul; she beheld transgressors and was grieved. In those cases wherein she hath been concerned, she has been more grieved for the faults of professors than her own loss, pitying such as had cozened her, and begging the pardon of their sin. She put her shoulder under to bear the burdens of the afflicted. O her sympathizing groans and importunate prayers for those that were under desertions, temptations, and discouragements! She made every person's condition her own, and put on such as were able to help those who were suffering. She was the poor man's purveyor, and begged relief of others when the case required. Tempted souls she would bring to an acquaintance with ministers or able Christians, that they might be edified and satisfied.

She was wonderfully carried out in endeavouring the good of the church. She was exceedingly desirous and sedulous to procure the settlement of pious ministers in adjacent places. The very last day she was at Bolton, and the last work she did in Lancashire, was actively exerting herself to bring a good man to Cockey chapel, for which end she procured a meeting of ministers and some of the people to consult about it, which was the only means to accomplish that end; for good designs often prove ineffectual for want of mutual harmony, though individuals are forward enough if taken separately. This mutual concurrence was her great object, either for reconciling differing parties, or for accomplishing public undertakings. She was very useful in healing breaches, and took much pains and great delight in that work, often repeating, "Blessed are the peacemakers." She had so much interest in the affections of good people, and did so evince that she minded not self, that there were few but would have been prevailed on by her; besides, she used to speak with such plain, downright, homely rhetoric, and scriptural reasons, that few I believe had power to deny her request. She was so much for peace, that she would roll away every stone to effect it, and if it was any thing that concerned

herself, she would abate her right in the pursuit, and lose much to purchase it.

The love she bore to her children, though natural was spiritualized, but especially the regard she had for our souls, (which is the soul of love,) was highly elevated. I may say, she travailed in birth again for us, till Christ was formed in us; and the latter was more severe than the former. O with what tears and entreaties did she plead for us at the throne of grace! What heart-breaking words of endeared affection hath she expressed for our souls! What heart-awakening instructions hath she constantly inculcated upon us! She used to press upon our consciences the undeniable truths of christianity, such as: our fall in Adam-the corruption of our nature-our subjection to the curse-redemption by Christ-the necessity of regeneration-the immortality and worth of the soul-the weighty concerns of eternity, and other truths of similar importance, which might at once inform our judgments, rouse our affections, awaken our consciences, and, through God's blessing, prevail on our wills. I may say, I owe much to her as the instrument under God, of that saving good I at first received; and I hope I shall never forget the instructions of a mother. She was continually putting us on reading the scriptures and good books, and instructed us how to pray. It was her custom, when my father was gone to London, to make all her children pray, beginning at the youngest, exhorting us to say what we could before the Lord. We spent at least one evening in this manner during his absence, which certainly was not in vain, if it only encouraged and emboldened us for the future. Though she was very indulgent to us, yet she was very sharp and severe against sin, especially such as she saw we were most inclined to. O how did she reprobate sinful ways, and endeavour to prevent our running into them, or into any bad custom! She would never suffer us to use idle words, not even some that others, (even good people) thought were not wrong, her conscience being so tender that she durst not indulge either herself or us in any thing she suspected to be sin. She often urged us to learn, but principally that we should seek for grace: for though she prized other things in their place, yet she often said, "if God would but give us grace, she cared not so much what else we had."

She loved true religion, and the power of godliness wherever she saw it, and accounted sincere Christians the most excellent of the earth, esteemed them her dearest friends, and made them her choicest companions though ever so poor; when she met with a christian friend it was not easy to part them. She laid

deeply to heart the death of a faithful minister or gracious Christian, fearing it was a presage of some approaching evil. It troubled her much to hear of the misconduct of the children of pious parents, and she would pray earnestly for them, reckoning that somebody perhaps would pray for her wandering children, when she was dead and gone.

She was always engaged actively in the works of her general or particular calling, and could not endure idleness. Her heart was mounting heavenwards while her hands were busy in this work, making some spiritual use of all passages of her life. I have heard her often say, "she was never right except she could get some good thing into her mind, whether lying in bed or walking in the way, or engaged in employment." She took much pleasure in that scripture, John iv. 34, " My meat is to do the will of him that sent me." She would often say, "we must be like Christ or Mary, the first was always doing good, the latter always receiving good."

She had a very low opinion of the world and its glory, profits, pleasures, and honours, and was much taken with a sermon preached on 1 John ii. 17. She was often repeating instances of the vanity and instability of the world, and drew good conclusions from thence to distrust it, to be weaned from it, and to lay up better treasures in heaven, where moth cannot corrupt nor thieves break in to steal. Her usual expressions were, "O what is this world good for! How little will these things do for us at death! What will it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Alas, what matter is it what becomes of the world, so that we have an interest in Christ!" She was weary of employments and enjoyments here below, and said "She did her domestic work rather from the sense of her duty than any delight therein, and she cared not how little she had to do in the world."

At last this choice piece of God's twofold workmanship of nature and grace was to be taken down; her tottering tabernacle was to be levelled with the ground, and her precious soul released that it might take its flight to eternal mansions. She that had been dying daily found it no strange thing to surrender her soul into the hands of him that gave it, and who had given himself to redeem it. The sting of death was plucked out, and this debt to nature became a sweet refreshing sleep. Solomon saith of the labouring man, "that his sleep is sweet;" so weary steps through this tedious wilderness made Canaan more delightful. The exhausting of her spirits by fasting and prayer rendered her dissolution more easy, so that it was not a violent extrusion, but a composed resignation of her soul.

She had been weakly a considerable time, yet her body was a little recovered, and her strength recruited beyond expectation, and hearing of a distemper that was upon me she was desirous to come and see me. Before she came, (as she told a neighbour of ours) she dreamed she must go into Yorkshire, and die there: and, indeed, the Lord seemed to say to her, as he once did to Aaron, that she must go up to mount Hor and be gathered to her people. As soon as she came hither, she complained she was not well, and had violent pain in her head, though towards the last she became very drowsy, having a lightness and dizziness in her head. About two days before she died, we were at dinner, and though she could not eat any thing with us, she came and sat down with us, and began to discourse feelingly on the things of God, which were as meat and drink to her, and which might prove food to our souls. She gave us a distinct account of her conversion and conversation, and of several observable passages in her life, which she accompanied with expressions of admiration of God's free grace, and what an indulgent God she had found the Lord to be all her days, and did not question but we should find him to be the same to us if we walked in his ways.

On Tuesday, which was the day before she died, she rode to the chapel, and heard my father Angier preach at the baptism of my son Eliezer, his text was 2 Pet. i. 15, "Moreover, I will endeavour that ye may be able after my decease to have these things always in remembrance." His excellent sermon seemed to be, as it were, her funeral sermon, being a clear description of her life. It was her great care, not only to be helpful to the church of God while she was living, but to leave behind her something that might benefit it when she was gone, by her laying hold on the covenant for herself and children, furthering God's public worship, holy education of children, dedicating them to the Lord, and pouring out many prayers both for them and the church, by beating out an exemplary track for posterity to walk in, helping others' memories, transcribing the word and works of God for future generations, by frequently discoursing and making suitable applications; all which were applicable to her, as they that knew her can abundantly testify. This sermon and her life had the same aspect, and were coincident. That night she slept but little, yet in the morning she arose and would needs be going home towards Lancashire; before which time she would not be persuaded to return. put on her riding clothes and prepared for her journey, but we saw she was in no fit posture for travelling, and that she was going apace to her long home. Her phlegm suddenly stopped,

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her strength failed, her colour changed, and, as we thought, she was near expiring. We called my father Angier hastily to her, who prayed with her. He asked her, "if she understood;" she answered, "yes, very well;" he told her, "he must leave her;" "I am sorry for that," she said; he replied, "I have committed you into the hands of our Father, and must go, having stayed here beyond my intentions." Thus they parted, with sweet expressions of mutual affection and submission to God's will, and confident expectation of meeting in glory. She continued, as it were, slumbering without any great pain, that we could perceive, and, being carried up into the chamber, lay quietly on the bed an hour or two, and at last breathed out her precious soul into the hands of God, and took possession of that glory which Christ went to prepare for her.

She died at my house in Northowram, April 22, 1657, about one o'clock in the afternoon, aged sixty-three. She was interred in Dr. Holdsworth's chapel, on the south side of Halifax church, April 24th, in the same grave, in which Mr. Boys, a celebrated minister, and some time lecturer at Halifax, was long since buried; on either side of whom were laid two excellent men, who had been ministers at Coley, Messrs. Hurst and Clayton. Mr. Bentley preached her funeral sermon on Cant. ii. 16.

Memoir

OF

MR. JOHN HEYWOOD,

ELDEST SON OF THE

REV. OLIVER HEYWOOD.

MR. JOHN HEYWOOD, eldest son of Oliver Heywood, was born at Northowram, April 18th, 1656, and was called John, after his maternal grandfather, the Rev. John Angier, of Denton. He was early the subject of religious convictions, and encou raged his father to hope for his usefulness in the church of God. Both he and his brother Eliezer received the rudiments of their education in the neighbouring schools, and in May, 1672, were placed under the care and instruction of Mr. David Noble, of Morley, at which time Mr. Heywood made the fol

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