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  <description>John Owen was born in
1616 and died in 1683.  During his
sixty-seven years he lived out a life full of spiritual experience, literary
accomplishment and national influence so far beyond most of his peers that he
continues to merit the accolade of "The greatest British theologian of 
all
time".  Andrew Thomson's biography
traces his life and experience from his birth at Stadhampton, through his
pastoral ministries in Fordham and Coggeshall, his years of public service as
chaplain to Cromwell and vice-chancellor of Oxford University, until his last
days as a preacher and pastor in London.</description>
  <pubHistory>The Works of John Owen,
edited by William H Goold, first published by Johnstone and Hunter 1850–1853.  Reprinted by photolithography and published
by the Banner of Truth Trust, Edinburgh 1965.</pubHistory>
  <comments />
</generalInfo>

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  <published>The Banner of Truth Trust,
Edinburgh, 1965.</published>
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  <authorID>thomson</authorID>
  <bookID>owenlife</bookID>
  <workID>owenlife</workID>
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  <DC>
    <DC.Title>Life of Dr Owen</DC.Title>
    <DC.Creator sub="Author" scheme="ccel">thomson</DC.Creator>
    <DC.Creator sub="Author" scheme="file-as">Thomson, Andrew</DC.Creator>
    <DC.Creator sub="Author" scheme="short-form">Andrew Thomson</DC.Creator>
    <DC.Publisher>Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library</DC.Publisher>
    <DC.Subject scheme="LCCN">BX5207 .O88</DC.Subject>
    <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh1">Christian Denominations</DC.Subject>
    <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh2">Protestantism</DC.Subject>
    <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh3">Post-Reformation</DC.Subject>
    <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh4">Anglican Communion</DC.Subject>
    <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh5">Church of England</DC.Subject>
    <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh6">Dissent and nonconformity</DC.Subject>
    <DC.Subject scheme="ccel">All; Biotarget=owen; Biography; </DC.Subject>
    <DC.Contributor sub="Markup">Timothy Lanfear</DC.Contributor>
    <DC.Date sub="Created" />
   
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<div1 title="Life of Dr Owen" shorttitle="" progress="0.52%" prev="toc" next="ii" id="i">
<pb n="XIX" id="i-Page_XIX" />
<p class="h1" id="i-p1"><span style="text-transform:uppercase" id="i-p1.1">Life of Dr Owen</span></p>
<p class="h2" id="i-p2"><span style="text-transform:uppercase" id="i-p2.1">by Rev. Andrew Thomson, B.A.,</span><br />
<span style="text-transform:uppercase" id="i-p2.3">Edinburgh</span></p>
<pb n="XX" id="i-Page_XX" />
<blockquote id="i-p2.4"><p id="i-p3">“<span lang="LA" id="i-p3.1">Semper quidem operæ pretium fuit
illustres sanctorum describere vitas, ut sint in speculum et exemplum et
quoddam veluti condimentum vitæ hominum super terram.  Per hoc enim quodammodo apud nos etiam post mortem vivunt,
multosque ex iis qui vivntes mortui sunt, ad veram vitam provocant et revocant</span>.”</p></blockquote>
<attr id="i-p3.2">Bernard</attr>
</div1>

<div1 title="His Student-Life" shorttitle="" progress="0.64%" prev="i" next="iii" id="ii">
<pb n="XXI" id="ii-Page_XXI" />
<h1 id="ii-p0.1">His Student-Life</h1>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p1"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="ii-p1.1">It</span>
is matter of just regret and complaint that no elaborate contemporary memoir of
this great Puritan was ever written. 
Twenty years after his death, Cotton Mather, in his “<span lang="LA" id="ii-p1.2">Magnalia Americana Christi</span>,” declared “that the church of God was wronged, in that the life
of the great John Owen was not written;” and it was only when twenty years more
had elapsed that a life of Owen at length appeared, from the pen of Mr Asty, a
respectable Independent minister in London; which, though written under the eye
of Sir John Hartopp, a particular friend of Owen, and for many years a member
of his church, is chargeable with numerous inaccuracies, and so scanty withal,
as “not to contain so many pages as Owen has written books.”<note place="foot" n="1" id="ii-p1.3"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p2">Orme’s
Memoirs of Owen, p. 2.</p></note> 
In addition to this, an equally brief anonymous memoir has fallen into our
hands, professing to have been written by one who “had the honour to know this
eminent person well, and to hear him frequently; though he must confess that he
had not then years and experience enough to conceive a suitable idea of the
Doctor’s great worth.”  But the student
who should wish to search for voluminous contemporary records and early
reminiscences of Owen, will look in vain for such full and accurate memorials
as Dr Edmund Calamy has given us of Howe; for such an inexhaustible storehouse
of incident, and almost redundance of mental portraiture, as Richard Baxter has
given us of himself.  The sources from
which the modern biographer must draw his notices of Owen, besides those
already named, are to some extent the representations of adversaries, who could
not be silent on so great a name, or withhold reluctant praise; the not
infrequent allusions to Owen in the lives of his contemporaries; the statements
of general history and biography, — such as are to be found in the page of
Neal, Calamy, Middleton, Palmer, and others; and, perhaps the most <pb n="XXII" id="ii-Page_XXII" />valuable and interesting of all, the many unconscious touches of
autobiography which may be found in his prefaces to his various works.  Of all of these Mr Orme has made excellent
use in his Life of Owen; which is a remarkable specimen of untiring research,
solid judgment and ability in the disposal of his materials, and, making some
allowance for honest bias, of biographical fidelity: and from all of these, and
especially from Mr Orme himself, we shall gather the details of our
biographical sketch and estimate of Owen.</p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p3">The
genealogy of the subject of our memoir leads us back to a family of high rank
and reputation in Wales, whose remoter links connect it with the five regal
tribes.  In the reigns of Henry VIII.,
Edward VI., and Queen Mary, we meet with the name of Lewis Owen as
Vice-chamberlain and Baron of the Exchequer in North Wales, and High Sheriff of
the county of Merioneth; as honoured by correspondence with those monarchs in
reference to the affairs of Wales and as going forth on a commission to clear
the country of those felons and outlaws who had sought refuge in great numbers
among its mountains, during the turbulence and relaxed authority that had
arisen from the long wars between the houses of York and Lancaster.  At a later period this honoured ancestor
fell a sacrifice to his fidelity as a magistrate; for, on his return from the
assizes in Montgomeryshire, he fell into the hands of a band of outlaws, who
had taken a vow of revenge against him on account of the capture of their
companions, and, deserted by all but one faithful friend, was murdered by them
in the woods of Monthrey.<note place="foot" n="2" id="ii-p3.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p4">Asty’s
Memoir, p. ii.  Anonymous Memoir, p. v.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p5">Humphrey
Owen, a branch of this same family, married Susan, a granddaughter of Lewis
Owen; and to him there were born in succession fifteen sons, the youngest of
whom was Henry Owen.  Henry was
dedicated by his parents to office in the church, and having received an
education, in language, philosophy, and divinity, at Oxford, in the course of
time became vicar of Stadham, in Oxfordshire. 
Here he proved himself so “painful a labourer in the vineyard of the
Lord,” and so uncompromising an advocate for reformation in the church, as to
receive testimony to his fidelity in the jealousy and displeasure of the
dominant ecclesiastical powers, and to be branded with the name of
“Puritan.”  To this worthy vicar there
was born, at Stadham, in the year 1616, a second son, <span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="ii-p5.1">John Owen</span>, the subject of this memoir, who was destined to
shed a new renown on their ancient house, and to eclipse, by the more
substantial glory of his virtues, learning, and genius, the dim lustre of their
regal lineage.<note place="foot" n="3" id="ii-p5.2"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p6">Ibid.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p7">Little
is known regarding the childhood of Owen; and no records whatever have
descended to tell us of the mother to whom was committed the training of his
most susceptible years, and who was to be <pb n="XXIII" id="ii-Page_XXIII" />the Monnica to this future
Augustine.  There is reason to think
that he received the elements of a common education from the good vicar
himself, under the domestic roof at Stadham; while, after a few years of home
education, he was transferred to a private academy at Oxford, where he entered
on his classical studies under the superintendence of Edward Sylvester, a tutor
of eminence, several of whose pupils rose to the highest distinction, and even
won for themselves at no distant date an undying fame.  A comparison of dates makes it unlikely that
the two were playmates; but it is interesting to notice, that the same quiet
institution, in the parish of All-Saints, which now received within its walls
the future great theologian of the Puritans, was also the place in which was
initiated into the Greek and Roman tongues the immortal Chillingworth, — of
whose great work, “The Religion of Protestants,” it is not too much to say,
that it is sufficient to shed honour, not on a university merely, but on an
age.<note place="foot" n="4" id="ii-p7.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p8">Wood’s <span lang="LA" id="ii-p8.1">Athenæ Oxoniensis</span>,
p. 97.  Orme, p. 7.</p></note> 
One fact will suffice to show the energy with which the young pupil
applied himself to his studies, as well as the unusually early development of
his faculties, that, at the age of twelve, he was found to have outgrown the
instructions of Sylvester and to be ripe for the university.  He was, accordingly, entered a student at
Queen’s College at this age, which, in the case of most youths, would have been
most injudiciously premature, and, even at this period, must have seemed
strangely early; for, in looking into the lives of some of the most eminent of
his contemporaries, we meet with no instance of similar precocity.  Bishop Hall, for example, enrolled himself at
Cambridge at fifteen,<note place="foot" n="5" id="ii-p8.2"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p9">Hamilton’s
Memoir of Bishop Hall, p. viii.</p></note> while his great Puritan
contemporary, John Howe, did not enter Oxford until he had reached the riper
age of seventeen.<note place="foot" n="6" id="ii-p9.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p10">Urwick’s
Life of Howe, p. vi.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p11">Few men
of great eminence appear to have occupied the chairs of the university at this
period; but Owen was fortunate enough to have his studies in mathematics and
philosophy superintended by a tutor of solid attainments and subsequent high
distinction, — Thomas Barlow, then a fellow of Queen’s College, afterwards its
provost, and who, in course of time, was elevated to the see of Lincoln.<note place="foot" n="7" id="ii-p11.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p12">We have
additional authority for many of the above facts in one of the <i>larger</i>
epitaphs on Owen by his friend the Rev. T. Gilbert of Oxford; some lines of
which we subjoin:—</p>
<verse id="ii-p12.1">
<l id="ii-p12.2">“<span lang="LA" id="ii-p12.3">Literis natus, literis innutritus, totusque deditus;</span></l>
<l id="ii-p12.4"><span lang="LA" id="ii-p12.5">Donec animata plane evasit bibliotheca:</span></l>
<l id="ii-p12.6"><span lang="LA" id="ii-p12.7">Authoribus classicis, qua Græcis, qua Latinis,</span></l>
<l id="ii-p12.8"><span lang="LA" id="ii-p12.9">Sub Edv. Sylvestro, scholæ privitæ Oxonii moderatore</span></l>
<l id="ii-p12.10"><span lang="LA" id="ii-p12.11">Operam navavit satis felicem:</span></l>
<l id="ii-p12.12"><span lang="LA" id="ii-p12.13">Feliciorem adhuc studiis philosophicis,</span></l>
<l id="ii-p12.14"><span lang="LA" id="ii-p12.15">Magno sub Barlovi, coll. reginalis, id tempus, socio.</span>”</l>
</verse></note> 
The boy-student devoted himself to the various branches of learning with
an intensity that would have unhinged most minds, and broken in pieces any <pb n="XXIV" id="ii-Page_XXIV" />bodily constitution except the most robust.  For several years of his university
curriculum he allowed himself only four hours of the night for sleep, though he
had the wisdom so far to counteract the injurious influence of sedentary habits
and excessive mental toil, by having recourse to bodily recreation in some of
its most robust and even violent forms. 
Leaping, throwing the bar, bell-ringing, and similar amusements,
occasionally allured him from his books; and it may perhaps surprise some, who
conceive of the men of that age as unsocial and unfriendly to all the lighter
graces and accomplishments, to learn that Owen received lessons in music from
Dr Thomas Wilson, a celebrated performer on the flute, and the favourite
preceptor in the same elegant and delightful art of Charles I.  It may perhaps have been from grateful
recollections of these youthful and fascinating exercises, in which the student
had been accustomed to unbend from too protracted and severe studies, that Owen
at a future period, when elevated to the vice-chancellorship of Oxford,
appointed his early tutor professor of music in the university.<note place="foot" n="8" id="ii-p12.16"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p13">Asty, p.
iii.  Orme, p. 9.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p14">Still,
the hours which are taken from needful rest are not redeemed, but borrowed, and
must be paid back with double interest in future life; and Owen, when he began
to feel his iron frame required to pay the penalty of his youthful enthusiasm,
was accustomed to declare that he would willingly part with all the learning he
had accumulated by such means, if he might but recover the health which he had
lost in the gaining of it.  And he was
wont to confess with a far profounder sorrow, not unmixed with shame, that no
holy oil at this time fed his midnight lamp; but that the great motive which
had borne him up, during those days and nights of consuming toil, was an
ambition to rise to distinction and power in the church.  We can well believe that the severity of
this self-condemnation would, by a judge more tender than himself, have so far
been mitigated by the knowledge of another motive, which must have had
considerable influence upon his mind, arising from the fact that his father had
been unable to render him any adequate pecuniary assistance, and that he had
hitherto been indebted for his support to the liberality of an uncle in
Wales.  But still, when more amiable
motives have been allowed their full force, a mere earthly ambition must be
acknowledged to have been the mainspring of all his past efforts; and we cannot
doubt that, when he returned to the university at a future period, these
condemnatory reminiscences arose strongly in his mind, and that, like Philip
Henry in similar circumstances, while thanking God that his course had been
unstained by vices, he could insert in his book, “A tear dropped over my
university sins.”<note place="foot" n="9" id="ii-p14.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p15">Bogue and
Bennet’s History of Dissenters, ii. 211, 226.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p16"><pb n="XXV" id="ii-Page_XXV" />And here let us pause for a moment,
to look at the circumstances of another student, who was destined at a future
day to shine with Owen in the same bright constellation.  While Owen was walking amid the majestic
structures and academic shades of Oxford, or bending over the midnight page,
Richard Baxter might have been seen amid the enchanting scenery of Ludlow
Castle, or, later still, in the small village of Wroxeter, with little help or
guidance from man, but, under the promptings of an indomitable will, and with
an omnivorous appetite for knowledge, allowing no difficulties or
discouragements to damp the ardour of his pursuits.  Without the advantage of the systematic training of a university,
or the command of the rich stores of its libraries, this was almost compensated
to his athletic soul by the more discursive and varied range which both his
tastes and his necessities thus gave to his studies.  In the writings of Thomas Aquinas, Anselm, and Duns Scotus, which
to most minds would have been dry and barren as the sands of the desert, his
acute intellect found high exercise and real delight, and rejoiced in whetting
and exercising on them its dialectic powers, until he could rival in subtle and
shadowy distinctions those ghostly schoolmen. 
Two years the senior of Owen, he was also “in Christ” before him; and
while the Oxford student was still feeding the fires of an earth-born ambition,
Baxter had learned from Sibbs’ Bruised Reed, and from his Bible, the art of
holy meditation; and, even in the later years of his student-life, might have
been seen at that hour when it was too dark to read and too early to light his
lamp, devoting its sacred moments to thinking of heaven and anticipations of
the “saints’ everlasting rest.”<note place="foot" n="10" id="ii-p16.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p17">Jenkyn’s
Essay on the Life of Baxter, pp. iii.–v.</p></note> 
But the same grace was soon to descend upon the soul of Owen, and,
cooperating with providential occurrences, to withdraw him forever from the
poor daydreams of a mere earthly ambition. 
While he was measuring out for himself a course which, if successful,
would probably have made him a secular churchman, and even an intolerant
persecutor, Christ had said of him, “I will show him how great things he must
suffer for my name’s sake.”  Let us now
trace the influences and events which brought about in the mind and outward
circumstances of Owen this mighty change.</p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p18">We have
no minute information regarding the means by which his mind was first turned
with serious personal interest to the supreme subject of religion.  Perhaps the dormant seeds of early
instruction that had been lodged in his mind under the roof of the humble
vicarage now began to live; perhaps some of those truths which he was storing
in his mind as matter of mere intellectual furniture and accomplishment had
unexpectedly reached his heart; or the earnest struggles on religious questions
that were beginning to agitate the <pb n="XXVI" id="ii-Page_XXVI" />kingdom had, in some measure,
arrested the sympathy of the young recluse; or thoughts of a more serious kind
than he had yet entertained had arisen in his mind, he knew not how, like
invisible and life-awakening spring-breezes; or all these things combined may
have been employed as influences in bringing him at length to “seek first the
kingdom of God, and his righteousness.” 
At all events, we have Owen’s own testimony to the fact, that in the
later years of his university life, the Divine Spirit began to work in his soul
a new class of thoughts and emotions; and though it was not until a later
period that he entered upon the full peace and holy liberty of the kingdom of
God, he was brought even then to submit his life to the supreme control of
religious principle, and to ask, “What wilt thou have me to do?”</p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p19">While
his mind was undergoing this great change, events were occurring in the
government of the university which were fitted to put his religious principle
to the test, and to try it, as it were, by fire.  William Laud having, by a succession of rapid advancements, been
raised to the chancellorship of Oxford, hastened to introduce into it those
Romish innovations which, as the privy councillor and principal adviser of
Charles, and the intimate associate of Strafford, he had already done much to
infuse into the general ecclesiastical policy of the nation.  The naturally arrogant and domineering
spirit of this narrow-minded ecclesiastic, whom even Clarendon describes as
“rough of temper, impatient of contradiction, and arbitrary,”<note place="foot" n="11" id="ii-p19.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p20">Heylin’s
Life of Laud, p. 252.</p></note> had far more to do with those
oppressive measures which marked his fatal ecclesiastical supremacy, than those
mistaken views of the rights of conscience which at this period dragged so many
better and more amiable men into the ranks of persecutors.  Accordingly, we find him requiring the
adoption, by the university, of many of those rites and ceremonials which
savoured the most strongly of Popish superstitions, and in some instances were
identical with them, and which the Reformers of England had soonest renounced
and most severely condemned; the penalty of resistance to this demand being
nothing less than expulsion from the university.</p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p21">This
bold innovation at once dragged Owen from the privacy of his student-life into
all the stern struggles of a public career. 
And his mind, delivered by the fear of God from every other fear, was
not slow in resolving on resistance to the bigoted prelate’s intolerant
statutes.  Many of the rites which Laud
imposed were such as he in conscience believed to be divinely forbidden; and
even things which, if left unimposed, might have been borne with as matters of
indifference, when authoritatively enjoined as of equal obligation with divine
appointment, he felt ought to be resisted as an invasion of the divine
prerogative <pb n="XXVII" id="ii-Page_XXVII" />and the rights of conscience, — “a
teaching for doctrines of the commandments of men.”  This was the ground that had been occupied by the Puritans from
the days of Elizabeth, when Ridley and Latimer had “played the man in the
fire;” and though we have no record of Owen’s mental exercise at this period,
yet, with the course that was actually taken by him before us, we cannot doubt
that he now unconsciously felt his way to this first Puritan standing-point,
and that the following passage, written by him long afterwards, expressed the
principles which animated his mind and decided his movements:—</p>
<blockquote id="ii-p21.1"><p id="ii-p22">“They
[believers] will receive nothing, practise nothing, own nothing in His worship,
but what is of His appointment.  They
know that from the foundation of the world he never did allow, nor ever will,
that in any thing the will of the creatures should be the measure of his
honour, or the principle of His worship, either as to matter or manner.  It was a witty and true sense that one gave
of the Second Commandment, ‘<span lang="LA" id="ii-p22.1"><i>Non imago, non simulachrum prohibetur, sed, non facies tibi</i></span>;’ — it is a making to ourselves, an inventing, a finding out ways
of worship, or means of honouring God, not by him appointed, that is so
severely forbidden.  Believers know what
entertainment all will-worship finds with God. 
‘Who has required this at your hand?’ and, ‘In vain do ye worship me,
teaching for doctrines the traditions of men,’ is the best it meets with.  I shall take leave to say what is upon my
heart, and what (the Lord assisting) I shall willing endeavour to make good against
all the world, — namely, that that principle, that the church has power to
institute and appoint any thing or ceremony belonging to the worship of God,
either as to matter or to manner, beyond the orderly observance of such
circumstances as necessarily attend such ordinances as Christ himself has
instituted, lies at the bottom of all the horrible superstition and idolatry,
of all the confusion, blood, persecution, and wars, that have for so long a
season spread themselves over the face of the Christian world; and that it is
the design of a great part of the Book of the Revelation to make a discovery of
this truth.</p><p id="ii-p23">“And I
doubt not but that the great controversy which God has had with this nation for
so many years, and which he has pursued with so much anger and indignation, was
upon this account, that, contrary to the glorious light of the Gospel, which
shone among us, the wills and fancies of men, under the name of order, decency,
and authority of the church (a chimera that none knew what it was, not wherein
the power did consist, nor in whom reside), were imposed on men in the ways and
worship of God.  Neither was all that
pretence of glory, beauty, comeliness, and conformity, that then was pleaded,
any thing more or less than what God does so describe in the Church <pb n="XXVIII" id="ii-Page_XXVIII" />of Israel, <scripRef passage="Ezek. xvi. 25" id="ii-p23.1" parsed="|Ezek|16|25|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Ezek.16.25">Ezek. xvi. 25</scripRef>, and forwards.  Hence was
the Spirit of God in prayer derided, — hence was the powerful preaching of the
gospel despised, — hence was the Sabbath-day decried, — hence was holiness
stigmatized and persecuted.  To what
ends that Jesus Christ might be deposed from the sole power of lawmaking in his
church, — that the true husband might be thrust aside, and adulterers of his
spouse embraced, — that taskmasters might be appointed in and over his house,
which he never <i>gave to his church</i>, <scripRef passage="Eph. iv. 11" id="ii-p23.2" parsed="|Eph|4|11|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Eph.4.11">Eph. iv. 11</scripRef>, — that a ceremonious, pompous,
outward show-worship, drawn from Pagan, Judaical, and Antichristian
observances, might be introduced; of all which there is not one word, tittle,
or iota in the whole book of God.  This,
then, they who hold communion with Christ are careful of, — they will admit
nothing, practise nothing, in the worship of God, private or public, but what
they have his warrant for.  Unless it
comes in his name, with ‘Thus saith the Lord Jesus,’ they will not hear an
angel from heaven.”<note place="foot" n="12" id="ii-p23.3"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p24">Owen on
Communion with God, pp. 309, 310, fol. ed.</p></note></p></blockquote>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p25">While
the well-informed conscience of Owen thus distinctly forbade conformity, every
consideration of seeming worldly interest strongly pleaded for pliant
acquiescence in the statutes of Laud. 
To abandon Oxford, was to dash from him at once all those fair prospects
which had hitherto shone before him in his career as a student, — to shut
against himself the door, not only of honourable preferment, but, as it
probably at this time appeared to his mind, of Christian usefulness, — to incur
the inevitable displeasure of that prelate, whose keen and sleepless efforts to
search out all who were opposed to his policy had already subjected every
corner of the realm to a vigilant and minute inspection, and whose cruel and
malignant spirit was already finding desolating scope in the unconstitutional
measures and atrocities of the Star Chamber and the High Commission.  And even though these latter perils might
seem to be remote as yet from his head, yet could he not be blind to the fact,
that, by such a step, he might incur the implacable displeasure of his Royalist
uncle in Wales, who had hitherto supplied him with the principal means of
support at Oxford, and expressed his intention, in case of continued
satisfaction with his conduct, of making him heir to his estates.  Yet all these probable consequences of
non-compliance Owen was willing to incur, rather than violate his sense of
duty, “esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than all the treasures
of Egypt;” and, at the age of twenty-one, might have been seen leaving behind
him all the daydreams and cherished associations of more than ten youthful
years, and passing through the gates of Oxford self-exiled for conscience’
sake.  God was now educating him in a
higher school than that of Oxford, and subjecting him to that fiery discipline
by <pb n="XXIX" id="ii-Page_XXIX" />which he tempers and fashions his
most chosen instruments.  But “there is
no man that has left house, or parents, or brethren, or wife, or children, for
the kingdom of God’s sake, who shall not receive manifold more in this present
time, and in the world to come life everlasting.”  Ten years afterwards the banished student, who had thus nobly
followed the light of conscience, lead where it might, was to be seen returning
through those very gates to receive its highest honours, — to have intrusted to
him the administration of its laws, and almost to occupy the very seat of power
from which Laud had, in the interval, been ignominiously hurled.</p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p26">Owen had
“commenced master of arts” in his nineteenth year, and not long before leaving
Oxford, had been admitted to orders by Bishop Bancroft.  He now found a home unexpectedly opened to
him in the house of Sir Philip Dormer of Ascot, who invited him to become chaplain
to his family, and tutor to his eldest son; “in both which respects,” says one
of the oldest notices of Owen, “he acquitted himself with great satisfaction to
Sir Robert and his family.”<note place="foot" n="13" id="ii-p26.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p27">Anon. Mem.,
p. ix.</p></note> 
After some time, he accepted the situation of chaplain in the family of
Lord Lovelace of Hurly, in Berkshire, where he appears to have enjoyed much
kindness, and to have been duly appreciated.<note place="foot" n="14" id="ii-p27.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p28">Wood’s
Athen. Oxen., p. 97.</p></note> 
But meanwhile the rent between Charles and his Parliament was widening
apace.  His frequent invasion of the
constitutional rights of the other estates of the realm, his attempts to rule
without a Parliament and to raise money by illegal means, his systematic
violation of his most solemn pledges, his connivance at the innovating
superstitions of Laud, and wanton violation of religious liberty, at length
roused an impatient kingdom to resistance, drove the Parliament to the last
resort of arms, and shook the land with the discord of civil war.<note place="foot" n="15" id="ii-p28.1"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p29">Vaughen’s
Memorials of the Stuart Dynasty, I., ch. vii.–xi.</p></note> 
At such a crisis it is impossible for any man to remain neutral, and it
found Owen and his patron of opposite sentiments.  Lord Lovelace took up arms on the side of Charles, and of royal
prerogative; all the convictions and sympathies of Owen were naturally with the
army of the Parliament, and the cause of public liberty.  Two consequences immediately followed from
this to Owen, — his leaving the family of Lord Lovelace, and the complete
estrangement of his Royalist uncle in Wales, who now finally disinherited him,
and bestowed his estates and wealth upon another.</p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p30">Leaving
Berkshire, Owen now removed to London, and took up his residence in
Charter-House Yard.  Here he continued
to suffer from that mental depression which had begun with his earliest
religious anxieties at Oxford; and which, though partially relieved at
intervals, had never yet been completely removed.  Some influence is no doubt <pb n="XXX" id="ii-Page_XXX" />to be ascribed to the discouraging
outward circumstances in which his uncle’s conduct had placed him, in deepening
the gloom of those shadows which now cast themselves across his spirit; but the
chief spring of his distress lay deeper, — in his perplexities and anxieties
about his state with God.  For years he
had been under the power of religious principle, but he had not yet been borne
into the region of settled peace; and at times the terrors of the Lord seemed
still to compass him about.  We have no
means of ascertaining with certainty what were the causes of these dreadful
conflicts in Owen’s mind; whether an overwhelming sense of the holiness and
rectitude of God; or perverse speculations about the secret purposes of God,
when he should have been reposing in his revealed truths and all embracing
calls; or a self-righteous introversion of his thoughts upon himself, when he
should have been standing in the full sun-light of the cross; or more mysterious
deeps of anguish than any of these; — but we are disposed to think that his
noble treatise on the “Forgiveness of Sin,” written many years afterwards, is
in a great degree the effect as well as the record of what he suffered now.  Nothing is more certain than that some of
the most precious treasures in our religious literature have thus come forth
from the seven-times-heated furnace of mental suffering.  The wondrous colloquies of Luther, in his
“Introduction to the Galatians,” reflect the conflicts of his own mighty spirit
with unbelief; the “Pilgrim’s Progress” is in no small degree the mental
autobiography of Bunyan; and there is strong internal evidence that Owen’s
“Exposition of the 130<sup>th</sup> Psalm” — which is as full of Christian
experience as of rich theology, and contains some of the noblest passages that
Owen ever penned — is to a great extent the unconscious transcript of his
present wanderings, and perplexities, and final deliverances.</p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p31">But the
time had come when the burden was to fall from Owen’s shoulders; and few things
in his life are more truly interesting than the means by which it was
unloosed.  Dr Edmund Calamy was at this
time minister in Aldermanbury Chapel, and attracted multitudes by his manly eloquence.  Owen had gone one Sabbath morning to hear
the celebrated Presbyterian preacher, and was much disappointed when he saw an
unknown stranger from the country enter the pulpit.  His companion suggested that they should leave the chapel, and
hasten to the peace of worship of another celebrated preacher; but Owen’s
strength being already exhausted, he determined to remain.  After a prayer of simple earnestness, the
text was announced in these words of <scripRef passage="Matt. viii. 26" id="ii-p31.1" parsed="|Matt|8|26|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Matt.8.26">Matt. viii. 26</scripRef>, “Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?”  Immediately it arrested the thoughts of Owen
as appropriate to his present state of mind, and he breathed an inward prayer
that God would be pleased by that minister to speak to his <pb n="XXXI" id="ii-Page_XXXI" />condition.  The prayer was
heard, for the preacher stated and answered the very doubts that had long
perplexed Owen’s mind; and by the time that the discourse was ended, had
succeeded in leading him forth into the sunshine of a settled peace.  The most diligent efforts were used by Owen
to discover the name of the preacher who had thus been to him “as an angel of
God,” but without success.<note place="foot" n="16" id="ii-p31.2"><p class="footnote" id="ii-p32">Asty, p.
v.  Anon. Mem., p. x.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="ii-p33">There is
a marked divine selection visible in the humble instrument that was thus
employed to bring peace to Owen’s mind. 
We trace in it the same wisdom that sent a humble Ananias to remove the
scales from the eyes of Saul, and made the poor tent-maker and his wife the
instructors of the eloquent Apollos. 
And can we doubt that when the fame of Owen’s learning and intellectual
power had spread far and wide, so that even foreign divines are said to have
studied our language in order that they might read his works the recollection
of the mode of his own spiritual deliverance would repress all self-dependence
and elation, and make him feel that the highest form of success in preaching
was in no respect the monopoly of high intellectual gifts; but that in every
instance it was, “not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the
Lord?”</p>
</div1>

<div1 title="His Pastorate" shorttitle="" progress="10.31%" prev="ii" next="iv" id="iii">
<h1 id="iii-p0.1">His Pastorate</h1>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p1">The mind
of Owen, now effectually relieved from the burden of spiritual distress, soon
recovered its elasticity and vigour; and in March 1642 he gave to the world his
first literary production, — “The Display of Arminianism.”  In all likelihood he had been silently
labouring at this work while in the families of Sir Philip Dormer and Lord
Lovelace; more especially as his mental distress may have had some connection
with a misunderstanding of certain of those points of which the Arminian
controversy touches, and have led to their more full examination.  But we may discover the principal occasion
of the work in the ecclesiastical policy of the period, and in the strain of
doctrinal sentiment which that policy had long aimed to foster and to
propagate.  Laud and his party had shown
themselves as zealous for the peculiar dogmas of Arminianism, as for Romish
rites and vestment and for passive obedience; and the dogmas had been received
into royal favour because of their association with the advocacy of
superstitious ceremonies and the defence of despotic rule.  Arminianism having thus been constituted the
exclusive way to preferment, had become <pb n="XXXII" id="iii-Page_XXXII" />the fashionable creed; and a
current of doctrine had flowed into the church which was rapidly changing the
character of its ministration, and bearing it away from those safe moorings at
which its own articles and its Reformers had fixed it.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p2">A remark
by Owen, in his address to the reader, correctly describes the Laudean policy:
“Had a poor Puritan offended against half so many <i>canons</i> as they opposed
<i>articles</i>, he had forfeited his livelihood, if not endangered his
life.”  And in another passage he
explains the progress of Arminianism in England: “The chief cause I take to be
that which Æneas Sylvius gave, why more maintained the pope to be above the
council than the council above the pope; — because the popes gave
archbishoprics and bishoprics, &amp;c, but the councils sued ‘<span lang="LA" id="iii-p2.1">in forma pauperis</span>,’ and therefore could scarce get an advocate to plead their
cause.  The fates of our church having
of late devolved the government of it on men tainted with this poison,
Arminianism became backed with the powerful arguments of praise and preferment,
and quickly beat poor naked Truth into a corner.”</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p3">Owen’s
“Display” is a barrier raised against prevailing opinions.  Each chapter contains a statement of the
Arminian doctrine on the point discussed, with Owen’s answer; while at the end
of each chapter the Arminian doctrine is more briefly stated, in the language
of some Arminian writer, and confronted in opposite columns by passages of
Scripture.  Undoubtedly there are some
things charged upon the Arminianism of those times which belong rather to the
family of Pelagian errors, and which the pious Arminian of our own day would at
all events repudiate.  Nor is it to be
denied that the work is not free, in some parts, of the fault which clings to
so much theological controversy, — that of making individuals responsible, not
only for the opinions they avow, but for all the consequences that you may
deduce from them; yet, withal, it is rich in matter which must have staggered
the courtly theologians of the age, — is hung all round with massive
Calvinistic armour; and, though written in a more scholastic form than most of
Owen’s subsequent works, gives indication of that spirit which was so
characteristic of the Puritans, and pre-eminently of Owen, and which gave such
a depth to their piety, — the spirit which connected all events with God, and
bent with lowly and awe-struck feeling before the divine sovereignty.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p4">Owen
dedicated his work to “The Lords and Gentlemen of the committee for Religion;”
who appointed it to be printed by the Committee of the House of Commons for
regulating the printing and publishing of books.  Its publication is interesting on another account, — as having
been the means of introducing him to his first pastoral charge.  The incumbent of Fordham in Essex having
been ejected from his living by the committee for purging the church of
scandalous <pb n="XXXIII" id="iii-Page_XXXIII" />ministers, Owen was invited by the
same committee to occupy the vacant parish. 
Not long after his removal to Fordham, he was married to a lady of the
name of Rooke.  But nearly all the
information that here descended to us regarding this union, from the earlier
biographies, amounts to this, — that the lady bore to him eleven children, all
of whom, except one daughter, died in early youth.  This only daughter became the wife of a Welsh gentleman; but the
union proving unhappy, she “returned to her kindred and to her father’s house,”
and soon after died of consumption.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p5">This
period of Owen’s early pastorate appears to have been one of the happiest of
his life.  Fordham is a secluded
village, overhanging the fertile and pleasing valley of the Stour, which
divides Suffolk from Essex.  Its
inhabitants, at the present day, number about seven hundred; but in the days of
Owen they could not have been by any means so numerous.  In this retreat, and surrounded by a not
very dense rural population,<note place="foot" n="17" id="iii-p5.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p6">We are indebted
for this information regarding the first scene of Owen’s ministry to the Rev.
Alexander Anderson, pastor of a Baptist Church, Colchester; who also informs us
that the signature of Owen is still to be seen in the parochial parish register
at Fordham (four miles distant), and that it has this peculiarity attached to
it, that whilst all preceding it, and also succeeding, so far as he continued
his examination, sign themselves “Parson,” the usual designation of the time,
his signature has the word “Pastor” invariably attached to it; showing that he
deliberately, and from the first, “preferred the more scriptural term of
‘pastor,’ to the presuming designation of parson, more especially if we accept
its common derivation, ‘<span lang="LA" id="iii-p6.1">Persona
ecclesiæ</span>.’ ”</p></note> he was allowed to pursue in peace
the quiet duties of a country parish, and knew nothing as yet of those more
public and distracting responsibilities which he ever undertook with
reluctance, and which he appears to have usually renounced with
satisfaction.  The spiritual interests
of the parish having been neglected by his predecessor, he set himself with
earnest system to break up the fallow ground, and to preach those truths which
had still to his mind all the freshness of first love.  The good Puritan practice of visiting and
catechising from house to house gave him a large place in the affections of his
people, as well as revealed to him the measure of their Christian intelligence;
while his solid preaching soon gathered around him the inhabitants of his own
parish, and even allured multitudes across the borders of the neighbouring
parishes to listen to his weighty words. 
Like Baxter at Kidderminster, he was ere long cheered by witnessing one
of those widespread and enduring reformations which have never followed on any
agency save the earnest preaching of “Christ crucified.”</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p7">The productions of his pen at this period indicate the current of
his thoughts, and the liveliness of his evangelic zeal.  The first of these is entitled, “The Duty of
Pastors and People Distinguished,” and was published in 1643.  Its main design is to “describe the means to
be <pb n="XXXIV" id="iii-Page_XXXIV" />used by the people of God, distinct
from church officers, for the increasing of divine knowledge in themselves and
others,” and to show how “the sacred calling may retain its ancient dignity,
though the people of God be not deprived of their Christian liberty.”<note place="foot" n="18" id="iii-p7.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p8">Preface, p.
10, ed. 1644.</p></note> 
It bears internal evidence of having been drawn from him by the
unscriptural assumptions of those ecclesiastics who thought to place their
interdict on every thing like the agency of private members in the church,
though there are particular passages aimed at those fiery persons who sought to
introduce into the church the spirit of a wild democracy, and whose mode of
making “all the Lord’s people prophets,” was to dispense with the inestimable
benefits of a stated ministry.  As it is
the earliest, so it is one of the most useful of Owen’s smaller treatises, and
is remarkable for its skilful harmonizing of authority with liberty.  How much of his axiomatic sagacity there is
in the following sentence: “Truth revealed to any, carries with it an immovable
persuasion of conscience that it ought to be published and spoken to others!”<note place="foot" n="19" id="iii-p8.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p9">P. 38.</p></note> 
And how much of wise restraint and rebuke in this: “Let not them who
despise a faithful, painful minister in public, flatter themselves with hope of
a blessing in private.  Let them pretend
what they will, they have not equal respect unto all God’s ordinances!”<note place="foot" n="20" id="iii-p9.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p10">P. 49.</p></note> 
If Burnet’s “Pastoral Care” and Baxter’s “Reformed Pastor” may be named
as the guides and counsellors of the ministers of that age, this, tractate
might well have been placed beside them as the handbook of the people.<note place="foot" n="21" id="iii-p10.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p11">Owen quotes
with approbation (p. 54) the judgment and practice of the Church of Scotland,
as expressed in their Act of Assembly at Edinburgh, anno 1641.  “Our Assembly also commandeth <i>godly conference</i>
at all occasional meetings, or as God’s providence shall dispose, as the Word
of God commandeth, providing none invade the pastor’s office, to preach the
Word, who are not called thereunto by God and his church.”</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p12">We still
trace the signs of the busy pastor in his next publication, which is entitled,
“The Principles of the Doctrine of Christ Unfolded, in Two Short Catechisms;”
the first being intended for young persons, the second for adults, and as an
aid to parents in domestic instruction. 
We are reminded, as we look on the stalworth Puritan, who is soon to
mingle in the great theological discussions of the day, thus preparing “milk
for babes,” of Johnson’s admiring sentence on Isaac Watts: “Providing
instruction for all ages, from those who were lisping their first lessons, to
the enlightened readers of Malebranche and Locke.”<note place="foot" n="22" id="iii-p12.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p13">Lives of
the Poets, iv. 164.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p14">During these years of his laborious and unostentatious pastorate,
the solid reputation of Owen was extending, and on April 29, 1646, he was
appointed to preach before Parliament, on occasion of its monthly fast.  The discourse is founded on <scripRef passage="Acts xvi. 9" id="iii-p14.1" parsed="|Acts|16|9|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Acts.16.9">Acts xvi. 9</scripRef>, “ A vision <pb n="XXXV" id="iii-Page_XXXV" />appeared to Paul in the night: there stood a man of Macedonia, and
prayed him, saying, Come over into Macedonia, and help us;” and is written in a
style of popular eloquence by no means characteristic of the usual strain of
Owen’s writings.  The thanks of the
House were conveyed to Owen by Mr Fenner and Sir Philip Wentworth, and the
discourse commanded to be printed.  The
evangelic zeal of the pastor of Fordham breaks forth, towards the close, in
behalf of those parts of the empire which were destitute of religious
instruction, and especially in behalf of his ancestral country, Wales: “When
manna fell in the wilderness from the hand of the Lord, every one had an equal
share.  I would there were not now too
great an inequality when secondarily in the hand of man, whereby some have all,
and others none; some sheep daily picking the choice flowers of every pasture,
— others wandering upon the barren mountains, without guide or food.”<note place="foot" n="23" id="iii-p14.2"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p15">Owen’s
Sermons, fol. ed., p. 214.</p></note> 
The glowing terms in which he dedicates his sermon to the Long
Parliament, as “most deservedly celebrated through the whole world, and to be
held in everlasting remembrance by all the inhabitants of this island,” have
drawn forth the disapprobation of some. 
But what contemporary opinion has been more justified by the calm
judgment of later history?  What English
Parliament ever bore upon its roll such a list of patriots, or surrounded the
immunities of the people with such constitutional guards?  Even the grudging concession of Hume goes so
far as to say that their conduct, with one exception, was such as “to entitle
them to praise from all lovers of liberty.”<note place="foot" n="24" id="iii-p15.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p16">Hume’s
History of England, vi. ch. li. 
Vaughn’s Stuart Dynasty, ii. 74.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p17">Not long
after this, Owen’s pastoral connection with Fordham was brought to a
close.  The “sequestered incumbent”
whose place he had occupied died, and the right of presenting to the living
having in this way reverted to the patron, it was given to another.  The event became the occasion of introducing
him to a wider sphere.  The people of
Coggeshall, an important market-town of Essex, about five miles distant, no
sooner received the tidings of his deprivation than they sent a pressing
invitation to him to become their minister, — an invitation which the patron,
the Earl of Warwick, immediately confirmed. 
Unlike Fordham, this new charge had previously been diligently cultivated
by a succession of faithful ministers; so that his work was not so much to lay
the foundation as to build.  He soon
beheld himself surrounded by a congregation of nearly two thousand people,
whose general religious consistency and Christian intelligence were a delight
to his heart, and whose strong attachment to him subsequent events gave them
abundant opportunities of testifying.<note place="foot" n="25" id="iii-p17.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p18">Wood’s
Athen. Oxon., iv. 100.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p19">Contemporaneously
with these outward changes in Owen’s position, <pb n="XXXVI" id="iii-Page_XXXVI" />considerable changes also took
place in his opinions on church government. 
His removal to Coggeshall is named as the period at which he renounced
Presbytery; and the order of his church there is said to have been brought into
a closer conformity with the Independent or Congregational model.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p20">There
were principles, however, retained by Owen, both on the subject of the ruling
elder and of synods, — as we shall have occasion to show in noticing some of
his later writings, — which prove that his Congregationalism was of a somewhat
modified character, and which a moderate Presbyterian of our own times, though
not vaunting as identical with his views, would yet hail as evidence that the
gulf between himself and the Congregationalist is not impassable.  But the Presbyterians of Owen’s early days
in general went much farther than those of the present age; and we deem it not
the least of his honours that he refused to follow in their course.  Not that we have any sympathy with those
terms of unqualified censure with which the Presbyterians of that age have too
often been characterized.  During the
period of their brief supremacy, they accomplished much for England.  In proportion as we value those noble
statements of doctrine, the Westminster Confession and Catechisms, must we be
grateful to the Presbyterians, who took so prominent and cordial a part in
those deliberations which produced them. 
Well-informed and candid men of other religious parties have not been
slow to admit that those districts of England which were brought under a
Presbyterian pastorate and polity, made visible progress in Christian
intelligence and piety; and many of those measures which were adopted by them
in opposition to Cromwell, and which have often been ascribed to hostility to
liberty, were, in fact, honest endeavours on their part to restore a
constitutional government.  But the
intolerant spirit which animated them at this particular juncture is neither to
be extenuated nor denied.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p21">Having
recently risen to power, they had become dazzled by the dream of an
impracticable uniformity, and, as Baxter, himself a Presbyterian, complains,
had shown too great a readiness to invoke to their aid in realizing this
ambitious dream the arm of secular power. 
The endless diversity of opinion which the growing liberty and the
general ferment at the public mind had occasioned was regarded by them as evidence
of the dangers of unlimited toleration, and they imagined that amid such
discordant sounds truth must be indistinguishable, and even perish from the
earth.  Owen’s mind had, meanwhile, far
advanced beyond these narrow views, and risen above these imaginary fears.  He had boundless confidence in the vitality
of truth, — strong convictions of the power of its own spiritual weapons, and
of the utter impotence of every other: and while so many of those with whom he
hitherto been associated saw only, <pb n="XXXVII" id="iii-Page_XXXVII" />in the mingled light and darkness,
the approach of night, he hailed in them the hopeful twilight which was to grow
into perfect day.  In a “Country essay
for the practice of church government,” prefixed to his sermon before
Parliament, he repeatedly condemns all enforced conformity and punishment of
heretical opinions by the sword. 
“Heresy,” says he, “is a canker, but it is a spiritual one; let it be
prevented by spiritual means: cutting off men’s heads is no proper remedy for
it.”<note place="foot" n="26" id="iii-p21.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p22">Owen’s
Sermons, fol. ed., p. 229.</p></note> 
That Owen should have renounced Presbytery, in the intolerant and
repulsive form in which it was at this time presented to him, is not to be
wondered at; but that he recoiled equally far at every point from all the
essential and distinctive principles of that form of church government is a
statement which many have found it more difficult to believe.  At the same time, no reasonable doubt can be
entertained that the government of Owen’s church at Coggeshall was decidedly
Congregational; and if that church in any degree corresponded with the counsels
which Owen addressed to it in his next publication, it must have been
pre-eminently one of those to which Baxter alludes in that honourable
testimony, “I saw a commendable care of serious holiness and discipline in most
of the Independent churches.”  The
publication to which we refer is “Eshcol; or, Rules of Direction for the
Walking of the Saints in Fellowship according to the order of the Gospel,
1647.”  The rules are arranged into two
parts, — those which relate to the duty of members to their pastors, and those
which specify the duties of members to each other.  They are designed to recall men from debates about church order
to the serious, humble performance of those duties which grow out of their
common fellowship in the gospels.  Amid
its maxims of holy wisdom it would he impossible to discover whether Owen was a
Congregationalist or a Presbyterian.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p23">“Eshcol”
was the work of Owen as a pastor; in the following year he was once more to
appear as a theologian and Christian polemic, in a work on which he had long
been secretly engaged, — “<span lang="LA" id="iii-p23.1">Salus
Electorum, Sanguis Iesu</span>; or, the Death of Death in the
Death of Christ.”  The great subject of
this treatise is the nature and extent of the death of Christ, with especial
reference to the Arminian sentiments on the latter subject.  It is dedicated to the Earl of Warwick, the
good patron who had introduced Owen to Coggeshall, and warmly recommended by
two Presbyterian ministers as “pulling down the rotten house of Arminianism
upon the head of those Philistines who would uphold it.”<note place="foot" n="27" id="iii-p23.2"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p24">The names
of these ministers are, Stanley Gower and Richard Byfield.</p></note> 
Owen himself makes no secret of having devoted to it immense research
and protracted meditations.  He had
given it to the world after a more than seven-years serious inquiry, with a
serious perusal of all that the wit of man, in former or latter days, <pb n="XXXVIII" id="iii-Page_XXXVIII" />had published in opposition to the truth.<note place="foot" n="28" id="iii-p24.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p25">Address to
the Reader.</p></note> 
It is not without good reason therefore, that he claims a serious
perusal in return: “Reader, if thou art as many in this pretending age, a sign
or title gazer, and comest into books as Cato into the theatre, to go out
again, — thou hast had thy entertainment: farewell.”  The characteristic excellencies of Owen’s mind shine out in this
work with great lustre, — comprehension and elevation of view, which make him
look at his subject in its various relations and dependencies, united with the
most patiently minute examination of its individual parts, — intellectual
strength, that delights to clear its way through impeding sophistries and
snares, — soundness of judgment, often manifesting, even in his polemical
writings, the presence and power of a heavenly spirit, and “expressing itself
in such pithy and pregnant words of wisdom, that you both delight in the
reading, and praise God for the writer.”<note place="foot" n="29" id="iii-p25.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p26">Gower’s
Attestation.</p></note> 
Owen does not merely touch his subject, but travels through it with the
elephant’s grave and solid step, if sometimes also with his ungainly motion;
and more than any other writer makes you feel, when he has reached the end of
his subject, that he has also exhausted it.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p27">In those
parts of the present treatise in which he exhibits the glorious union and
co-operation of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in the work of redemption,
and represents the death of Christ as part of the divine plan which infallibly
secures the bringing of many sons unto glory, he has shown a mastery of
argument and a familiarity with the subject-matter of revelation, that leave
even the kindred treatise of Witsius far behind.  Many modern Calvinists have, indeed, expressed a doubt whether,
in thus establishing the truth, he has yet established the whole truth; and
whether his masterly treatise would not have more completely exhibited the
teaching of Scripture on the relations of the death of Christ, had it shown
that, in addition to its more special designs, and in harmony with them, it
gave such satisfaction to the divine justice as to lay a broad and ample
foundation for the universal calls of the Gospel.  It is quite true that the great object of the book is to prove
that Christ died for the elect only; and yet there are paragraphs in which
Owen, in common with all Calvinists worthy of the name who hold the same view,
argues for the true internal perfection and sufficiency of the sacrifice of
Christ, as affording a ground for the indiscriminate invitations of the Gospel,
in terms as strong and explicit as the most liberal Calvinist would care to
use.<note place="foot" n="30" id="iii-p27.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p28">Book iv.
ch. i. sect. 1.</p></note> 
This great work was the occasion of much controversy; and it is worthy
of especial notice that it was the first production that turned towards Owen
the keen eye of Richard Baxter, and brought the two great Puritans at length to
measure arms.<note place="foot" n="31" id="iii-p28.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p29">The
controversy was protracted through many treatises, particularly on the side of
Baxter, in the appendix to his “Aphorisms on Justification,” in his “Confession
of Faith,” and in his “Five Disputations of Right to the Sacrements;” and, on
Owen’s part, in a small treatise, “Of the Death of Christ,” &amp;c., and in the
close of his “<span lang="LA" id="iii-p29.1">Vindicæ
Evangelicæ</span>.” 
Various technical distinctions were introduced in the progress of the
discussion, — such as, whether the death of Christ was, “<span lang="LA" id="iii-p29.2">solutio ejusdem</span>,
or only <span lang="LA" id="iii-p29.3">tantundem</span>.”  The frequent bandying of this and similar
scholastic phrases, in the theological controversies of the age, caught the ear
of the author of “Hudibras,” and served him at times as matter for ridicule:—</p>
<verse id="iii-p29.4">
<l id="iii-p29.5">“The question, then, to
state it first,</l>
<l id="iii-p29.6">Is, Which is better, or
which is worst, —</l>
<l id="iii-p29.7">Synod or bears?  Bears I avow</l>
<l id="iii-p29.8">To be the worst, and synods
thou;</l>
<l id="iii-p29.9">But to make good th’
assertion,</l>
<l id="iii-p29.10">Thou say’st th’ are really
all one.</l>
<l id="iii-p29.11">If so, not worst; for if th’
are <i>idem</i>,</l>
<l id="iii-p29.12">Why then <i>tantundem dat
tantidem</i>.”</l>
</verse>
<attr id="iii-p29.13">Canto iii.</attr></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p30"><pb n="XXXIX" id="iii-Page_XXXIX" />Eventful and anxious years were now
passing over the land, in which the long struggle between prerogative and
popular right continued to be waged with various success; and at length Owen
beheld war brought almost to his door. 
The friends of Charles, having suddenly risen in Essex, had seized on
Colchester, and imprisoned a committee of Parliament that had been sent into
Essex to look after their affairs.  Lord
Fairfax, the leader of the Parliament’s forces, had in consequence been sent to
recover Colchester and deliver the committee, and for nearly ten weeks
maintained a strict siege before its walls. 
Coggeshall, being not far distant, was chosen as the head quarters of
the general; and intercourse having been begun between him and Owen, it became
the foundation of a lasting friendship, which, we shall soon find, was not
without important fruits.  At the close
of the ten weeks’ siege, of which Owen describes himself as having been an
“endangered spectator,” he preached two sermons; the one to the army at
Colchester on a day of thanksgiving for its surrender, and the other at Rumford
to the Parliamentary committee on occasion of their deliverance.  These were afterwards published as one
discourse on <scripRef passage="Hab. i. 1-9" id="iii-p30.1" parsed="|Hab|1|1|1|9" osisRef="Bible:Hab.1.1-Hab.1.9">Hab. i. 1–9</scripRef>.<note place="foot" n="32" id="iii-p30.2"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p31">Neal, iii.
407.  Asty, p. viii.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p32">But in
the course of a few months, Owen was called to officiate in circumstances
unspeakably more critical.  Charles I.
had been brought to trial before the High Court of Justice, on the charge of
being a traitor, tyrant, and murderer; and, in execution of its daring
judgment, beheaded before the gates of Whitehall.  On the day following this awful transaction, Owen preached by command
before Parliament; and the manner in which he discharged this unsought and
perilous duty, it has been not unusual to represent as one of the most
vulnerable points in his public life. 
His sermon, which is entitled, “Righteous Zeal Encouraged by Divine
Protection,” is founded on <scripRef passage="Jer. xv. 19, 20" id="iii-p32.1" parsed="|Jer|15|19|0|0;|Jer|15|20|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Jer.15.19 Bible:Jer.15.20">Jer. xv. 19, 20</scripRef>, “I will make thee unto this people a fenced brasen wall; and
they shall fight against thee, but they shall not prevail against thee: for I
am with thee to save thee, and to deliver thee, <pb n="XL" id="iii-Page_XL" />saith the Lord,” — a passage which
obviously gave him ample opportunity for commenting on recent events.  It is remarkable, however, that there is
throughout a systematic and careful confining of himself to general statements,
the most explicit allusion to the event of which, doubtless, every mind at the
moment was full, being in that two edged sentence, “To those that cry, give me
a king, God can give him in his anger; and from those that cry, Take him away,
he can take him away in his wrath;” and the charge founded on this constrained
silence, from the days of Owen to our own, is that of selfish and cowardly
temporizing.  Even one eminent Scottish
historian, dazzled, we presume, by the picture of his own Knox, with Bible in
hand, addressing Mary, and of other stern presbyters rebuking kings, imagines
one of these to have occupied the place of Owen, and with what fearless
fidelity he would have addressed those august commoners, “even though every
hair of their heads had been a spear pointed at his breast.”<note place="foot" n="33" id="iii-p32.2"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p33">M’Crie’s
Miscellaneous Works, p. 502.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p34">But is
there not a considerable amount of undue severity in all this?  In all likelihood those who had demanded
this service of Owen blamed him for an opposite reason, and hoped that this
theologian of high renown and untainted reputation would, in the hour of their
extremity, have surrounded their daring act with something more than the
dubious sanction of his ominous silence. 
But to ascribe his silence to cowardice, is to assume that he secretly
regarded the destruction of Charles as an indefensible act of crime.  And was this necessarily Owen’s
judgment?  It was surely possible that,
while believing that the party which had brought Charles to the scaffold had
violated the letter of the constitution, he may also have believed that it was
in righteous punishment of one whose whole career as a monarch had been one
long conspiracy against it, and who had aimed, by fourteen years of force and
perfidy, to establish despotism upon the ruins of popular liberty.  He may have thought that treason was as
possible against the constitution as against the crown, and to the full as
criminal; and that where a king rejected all government by law, he could no
longer be entitled to the shelter of irresponsibility.  He may have looked upon the death of Charles
as the last resource of a long-tried patience, — the decision of the question,
Who shall perish?  the one, or the
million?  We do not say that these were
actually Owen’s sentiments, but it is well known that they were the thoughts of
some of the purest and loftiest minds of that earnest age; and if Owen even
hesitated on these points, on which it is well known Milton believed,<note place="foot" n="34" id="iii-p34.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p35">Milton’s
Tenure of Kings and Magistrates, Defence of the People of England.</p></note> then silence was demanded, not
only by prudence, but <pb n="XLI" id="iii-Page_XLI" />by honesty, especially in a
composition which he himself describes as, “like Jonah’s gourd, the production
of a night.”</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p36">Whatever
opinion may be formed of Owen’s conduct in the matter of the sermon, there are
few, we imagine, that will not look on the publication of his “Discourse on
Toleration,” annexed to the sermon, and presented to the Parliament along with
it, as one of the most honourable facts in the public life of this great
Puritan.  The leading design of this
essay is to vindicate the principle, that errors in religion are not punishable
by the civil magistrate, with the exception of such as in their own nature, not
in some men’s apprehensions, disturb the order of society.<note place="foot" n="35" id="iii-p36.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p37">Owen’s
Sermons, fol. ed., p. 291.</p></note> 
To assert that this great principle, which is the foundation-stone of
religious liberty, was in any sense the discovery of Owen, or of that great
party to which he belonged, is to display a strange oblivion of the history of
opinions.  Even in the writings of some
of the earliest Reformers, such as Zwingle, the principle may be found stated
and vindicated with all the clearness and force with which Owen has announced
it;<note place="foot" n="36" id="iii-p37.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p38">Hess, Life
of Zwingle, pp. 148, 159–161.  M’Crie’s
Miscellaneous Works, p. 473.</p></note> and Principal Robertson has satisfactorily
proved, that the Presbyterian church of Holland was the first among the
churches of the Reformation formally to avow the doctrine, and to embody and
defend it in its authoritative documents.<note place="foot" n="37" id="iii-p38.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p39">Robertson’s
Charles I., iv. 131.</p></note> 
Nor is it matter of mere conjecture, that it was on the hospitable
shores of Holland, and in the bosom of her church, that English fugitives first
learned the true principles of religious liberty, and bore them back as a
precious leaven to their own land.<note place="foot" n="38" id="iii-p39.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p40">M’Crie’s
Miscellaneous Works, p. 474.</p></note> 
It is enough to say of Owen and his party, that in their attachment to
these principles they were greatly in advance of their contemporaries; and that
the singular praise was theirs, of having been equally zealous for toleration
when their party had risen to power, as when they were a weak and persecuted
sect.  And when we consider the
auspicious juncture at which Owen gave forth his sentiments on this momentous
subject, his influence over that great religious party of which he was long the
chief ornament and ruling spirit, as well as the deference shown to him by the
political leaders and patriots of the age, it is not too much to say, that when
the names of Jeremy Taylor and Milton, and Vane and Locke are mentioned, that
of John Owen must not be forgotten, as one of the most signal of those who
helped to fan and quicken, if not to kindle, in England, that flame which, “by
God’s help, shall never go out;” who, casting abroad their thoughts on the
public mind when it was in a state of fusion and impressibility, became its
preceptors on the rights of conscience, and have contributed to make the
principles of <pb n="XLII" id="iii-Page_XLII" />religious freedom in England
familiar, omnipresent, and beneficent, as the light or the air.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p41">On the
19<sup>th</sup> of April we find Owen once more summoned to preach before
Parliament, the chiefs of the army being also present; on which occasion he
preached his celebrated sermon, “On the Shaking of Heaven and Earth,” <scripRef passage="Heb. xii. 27" id="iii-p41.1" parsed="|Heb|12|27|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Heb.12.27">Heb. xii. 27</scripRef>. 
Oliver Cromwell was present, and probably for the first time heard Owen
preach.  Ere the sermon was completed,
Cromwell had formed a resolution which the following day gave him an
opportunity of executing.  Owen having
called at the house of General Fairfax, to pay his respects to him in
remembrance of their recent intercourse at Colchester, was informed by the servants
that the general was so indisposed that he had already declined to receive the
visits of several persons of quality. 
The pastor of Coggeshall, however, sent in his name; and while waiting,
Cromwell and many other officers entered the room.  Owen’s tall and stately figure soon caught the eye of Cromwell as
the person whom he had heard preach with so much delight yesterday; and going
up to him, he laid his hands upon his shoulders, and said to him familiarly,
“Sir, you are the person I must be acquainted with.”  Owen modestly replied, “That will be much more to my advantage
than yours.”  To which Cromwell
returned, “We shall soon see that;” and taking Owen by the hand, led him into
the garden, and made known to him his intention to depart for Ireland, and his
wish that Owen should accompany him as chaplain, and also to aid him in
investigating and setting in order the affairs of the University of
Dublin.  To this unexpected proposal
Owen naturally objected the claims of his church at Coggeshall; but Cromwell
reminding him that he was about to take his younger brother, whom he dearly
loved, as standard-bearer in the same army, would not listen to a refusal.  He even wrote to the church at Coggeshall
urging their consent; and when they showed themselves even more averse to the
separation than their pastor, Cromwell rose from entreaties to commands; and
Owen, with the advice of certain ministers whom he consulted, was at length
induced to make slow preparations for the voyage.<note place="foot" n="39" id="iii-p41.2"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p42">Asty, pp.
ix., x.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p43">In the
interval between these arrangements and his departure for Ireland, we discover
Owen once more preaching before the officers of state and the House of Commons,
on occasion of the destruction of the Levellers;<note place="foot" n="40" id="iii-p43.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p44">The title
of the sermon was, “Human Power Defeated,” <scripRef passage="Ps. lxxvi. 5" id="iii-p44.1" parsed="|Ps|76|5|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Ps.76.5">Ps. lxxvi. 5</scripRef>.</p></note> and about the middle of August we
find the army ready to embark for Ireland. 
On the day before the embarkation it presented one of those
characteristic pictures which are almost without a parallel in the history of
nations.  The entire day was devoted to
fasting and prayer; — three ministers in succession, among whom we <pb n="XLIII" id="iii-Page_XLIII" />cannot doubt was Owen, solemnly invoked the divine protection and
blessing; after which Colonels Gough and Harrison, with Cromwell himself,
expounded certain pertinent passages of Scripture.  No oath was heard throughout the whole camp, the twelve thousand
soldiers spending their leisure hours in reading their Bibles, in the singing
of psalms, and in religious conferences. 
Thus was trained that amazing armament, to whom victory seemed entailed,
— whose soldiers combined the courage of the ancient Roman with the virtues of
the private citizen, and have been well described as “uniting the most rigid
discipline with the fiercest enthusiasm, and moving to victory with the
precision of machines, while burning with the wildest fanaticism of crusaders.”<note place="foot" n="41" id="iii-p44.2"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p45">Whitelock,
p. 434.  Neal, iv. 4–6.  Macaulay’s History of England, i. p. 121.</p></note> 
There were elements at work here that have seldom gone to the
composition of armies.  “Does the reader
look upon it all as madness?  Madness
lies close by, as madness does to the highest wisdom in man’s life always; but
this is not mad!  This dark element, it
is the mother of the lightnings and the splendours; it is very sure this?”<note place="foot" n="42" id="iii-p45.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p46">Carlyle’s
Cromwell, i. p. 341.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p47">It is no
task of ours to follow the course of Cromwell in his rapid and terrible
campaign, in which he descended upon Ireland “like the hammer of Thor,” and by
a few tremendous and almost exterminating strokes, as before the walls of
Drogheda, spread universal terror throughout the garrisons of Ireland, saving
more blood than if he had adopted a more feeble and hesitating course.  His policy in Ireland finds its explanation
in two circumstances, — the impression that he had come as the instrument of a
just God to avenge the innocent blood of more than a hundred thousand
Protestants, — and the conviction that, in repressing a rebellion which
threatened the existence of the infant Commonwealth, the “iron hand,” though
the least amiable, was the most merciful, and would save the necessity of a
wider though more prolonged vengeance.<note place="foot" n="43" id="iii-p47.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p48">D’Aubigné’s
Protector, ch. vi.</p></note> 
But our business is with Owen, whom we find meanwhile employed within
the friendly walls of Dublin in preaching to “a numerous multitude of as
thirsting people after the gospel as ever he conversed with,” investigating the
condition of the university, and devising measures for its extension and
efficiency.  His preaching was “not in
vain,” while his representations to Parliament led to measures which raised the
university from its half-ruinous condition, and obtained for it some of its
most valuable immunities.<note place="foot" n="44" id="iii-p48.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p49">Orme, p.
88.</p></note> 
In the course of nine months, Cromwell, whose career in Ireland had been
that of the lightning followed by the shower, terrific yet beneficent, returned
to England to receive the thanks of the Parliament and the people, and to be
appointed General-in-chief of the armies of the Commonwealth; and Owen,
mourning over the fact <pb n="XLIV" id="iii-Page_XLIV" />“that there was not one gospel
preacher for every walled town in Ireland,”<note place="foot" n="45" id="iii-p49.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p50">Sermon on
the Steadfastness of Promises, and the Sinfulness of Staggering, preached
before Parliament after his return from Ireland, on a day of humiliation, <scripRef passage="Rom. iv. 20" id="iii-p50.1" parsed="|Rom|4|20|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Rom.4.20">Rom.
iv. 20</scripRef>.</p></note> was restored to his rejoicing
flock at Coggeshall.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p51">But the
release which he was to enjoy was short. 
Cromwell had scarcely returned from Ireland, when the state of Scotland
demanded his presence.  That nation,
which had begun the resistance to the tyranny of the Stuarts, and to the worse
tyranny of Rome, had almost unanimously disapproved of the death of Charles,
and now looked with jealousy and hostility upon the government of the
Commonwealth.  They had actually invited
Charles from the midst of his debaucheries of Breda to become their king; and,
deceived by his signing of the Covenant, were now meditating an attempt to
restore him to his father’s throne.  In
all this Cromwell saw, on the part of the best of the Scottish people, an
honest and misguided zeal, which was aiming substantially at the same ends as
himself; but he saw in it not the less the most imminent danger to the liberty,
religion, and morality of England, and hastened to assert and establish in
Scotland the authority of the Commonwealth. 
Simultaneously with this, an order passed the Commons requiring Joseph
Caryl and John Owen to attend on the Commander-general as ministers;<note place="foot" n="46" id="iii-p51.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p52">Wood’s
Athen. Oxon., iv. 98.</p></note> and Owen was thus a second time
torn away from his pastoral plans and studious toils to the society of camps,
and the din and carnage of sieges and battlefields.  Cromwell’s motives for thus surrounding himself with the great
preachers of his age have been variously represented, according to the general
theory that has been formed of his character. 
Believing as we do in his religious sincerity, we cannot doubt that he
felt, like other religious men, the powerful attraction of their
intercourse.  There was sound policy,
besides, in seeking by this means to convince an age remarkable for its
religious earnestness that he enjoyed the confidence and friendship of the
chiefs of the religious world; and hence we find him at a later period securing
the presence of John Howe at Whitehall, and aiming by repeated efforts to subdue
the jealous penetration of Baxter.  This
latter motive, we cannot doubt, had its own influence in inducing him to take
Caryl and Owen with him to Scotland; and it is very probable, moreover, that,
with all his passion for theological polemics, he foresaw that, in his
anticipated discussions with the Scottish clergy, he would be all the better of
these Puritan chiefs to help him at times in untying the Gordian knots which
they were sure to present to him.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p53">We are
able to trace but a few of the steps of Owen in Scotland.  He appears to have joined Cromwell at
Berwick, where he preached <pb n="XLV" id="iii-Page_XLV" />from the text, <scripRef passage="Isa. lvi. 7" id="iii-p53.1" parsed="|Isa|56|7|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Isa.56.7">Isa. lvi. 7</scripRef>, “For mine house shall be called
an hour of prayer for all people;” and, as we conclude from a letter of
Cromwell’s,<note place="foot" n="47" id="iii-p53.2"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p54">Carlyle’s
Cromwell, ii. 18.</p></note> assisted, with “some other godly
ministers,” in drawing up a reply to the Declaration of the General Assembly,
which had already been sent to Cromwell ere he could cross the borders.  We next find him writing from Musselburgh to
Lisle, one of the commissioners of the Great Seal, describing a skirmish
between some of Cromwell’s troops and those of “cautious” Leslie.  Next, the battle of Dunbar has been
fought.  Cromwell is in possession of
Edinburgh, but the castle still holds out against him, and the ministers of the
city have sought protection within its walls. 
The pulpits of Edinburgh are consequently in the hands of Cromwell’s
preachers.  Owen preached repeatedly in
old St. Giles’, and is listened to at first with wonder and jealousy, which
gradually melt into kindlier feelings, as the multitude trace in his words a
sweet savour of Christ.<note place="foot" n="48" id="iii-p54.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p55">His second
sermon, on <scripRef passage="Isa. lvi. 7" id="iii-p55.1" parsed="|Isa|56|7|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Isa.56.7">Isa.
lvi. 7</scripRef>,
was preached at Edinburgh.</p></note> 
It is the opinion of many that Owen’s hand is visible in the letters
which passed between Cromwell and the governor of Edinburgh castle, on the
offer of the Lord-General to allow the ministers to come out and occupy their
pulpits on the Sabbath-day; when, on their somewhat suspicious and sulky
refusal, Cromwell addressed them in that celebrated letter of which Carlyle
says, that “the Scotch clergy never got such a reprimand since they first took
ordination.”<note place="foot" n="49" id="iii-p55.2"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p56">Carlyle’s
Cromwell, ii. 59.</p></note> 
Undoubtedly there are striking resemblances to Owen’s turn of thoughts
especially in the paper of “Queries,” which abounds in “lumbering sentences
with noble meanings.”  We next follow
him with Cromwell to Glasgow, where Zachary Boyd thunders against the
Lord-General in the old cathedral, and Cromwell listens with calm forbearance,
and where a discussion takes place between Owen and the Scottish ministers, of
which the following anecdote is told:— A young Scottish minister, named Hugh
Binning, not yet twenty-six years of age, so managed the dispute as to confound
Owen and the other English divines. 
Oliver, surprised and half-pleased, inquired, after the meeting was
over, who this bold young man was; and being told that his name was Binning, —
“He has <i>bound</i>, well indeed,” said he; “but,” laying his hand on his
sword, “this will loose all again.”  The
discussion, with Binning’s victory, is not improbable; but the bad pun and the
braggart threat are not like Oliver, and may safely be consigned to those other
“anecdotes of Cromwell at Glasgow,” of which Carlyle says, that “they are not
to be repeated anywhere except in the nursery.”<note place="foot" n="50" id="iii-p56.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p57">Ibid., ii.
79.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iii-p58">But long
ere Cromwell’s campaign in Scotland was over, and that last battle, in which he
gained “Worcester’s laureate wreath,” had <pb n="XLVI" id="iii-Page_XLVI" />been fought, which drove Charles
back to Breda, and reduced Scotland under the generous sway of the
Commonwealth, Owen had been permitted to return to his books and to his quiet
pastorate in Essex.  It was only a short
breathing-time, however, before his connection with Coggeshall was loosed for
ever.  One morning he read, to his
surprise, in the newspapers of the day, the following order:— “On the 18<sup>th</sup>
March 1651, the House, taking into consideration the worth and usefulness of
John Owen, M.A., of Queen’s College, ordered that he be settled in the deanery
of Christ Church, in room of Dr Reynolds.”<note place="foot" n="51" id="iii-p58.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p59">Asty, p. x.</p></note> 
A letter soon after followed this from the principal students of Christ
Church, expressing their great satisfaction at the appointment.  Cromwell before this had been chosen
Chancellor of Oxford.  And on the 9<sup>th</sup>
of September of the following year, letters from Cromwell nominated Owen
vice-chancellor of the university, and thus placed him at the head of that
great and ancient seat of learning from which we have seen him, ten years
before, walk forth an exile for conscience’ sake.<note place="foot" n="52" id="iii-p59.1"><p class="footnote" id="iii-p60">His
preaching before Parliament, about the period of these appointments, appears to
have been frequent.  On October 24,
1651, being the day of thanksgiving of the victory of Worcester, we find him
preaching his sermon entitled, “The Advantage of the Kingdom of Christ in the
Shaking of the Kingdoms of the World,” <scripRef passage="Ezek. xvii. 24" id="iii-p60.1" parsed="|Ezek|17|24|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Ezek.17.24">Ezek. xvii. 24</scripRef>.  Next, February 6, 1652, in the Abbey Church
of Westminster, on the occasion of the funeral of Henry Ireton, Lord-Deputy of
Ireland, and Cromwell’s son-in-law, he preached his sermon on <scripRef passage="Dan. xii. 13" id="iii-p60.2" parsed="|Dan|12|13|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Dan.12.13">Dan. xii. 13</scripRef>,
— “The Labouring Saint’s Dismission to Rest.” 
Once more, October 13, 1652, on “Christ’s Kingdom and the Magistrate’s
Power,” from <scripRef passage="Dan. vii. 15, 16" id="iii-p60.3" parsed="|Dan|7|15|0|0;|Dan|7|16|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Dan.7.15 Bible:Dan.7.16">Dan.
vii. 15, 16</scripRef>.
</p></note></p>
</div1>

<div1 title="His Vice-Chancellorship" shorttitle="" progress="24.86%" prev="iii" next="v" id="iv">
<h1 id="iv-p0.1">His Vice-Chancellorship</h1>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p1">The
office of dean of Christ Church involved in it the duty of presiding at all the
meetings of the college, and delivering lectures in divinity; while that of
vice-chancellor virtually committed to the hands of Owen the general government
of the university.  A charge of
inconsistency has sometimes been brought against him, as an Independent, for
accepting such offices, especially that of dean; and even some sentences of
Milton have been adduced to give sanction to the complaint.  But the whole charge proceeds on a mistake.  It should be remembered that the University
of Oxford during the Commonwealth shared in those changes which befell so many
other institutions, and had ceased to be a mere appendage and buttress of
Episcopacy, and that the office as held by Owen was separated from its
ecclesiastical functions, and retained nothing, in fact, of Episcopacy <pb n="XLVII" id="iv-Page_XLVII" />except the name.  It is
quite true that the emoluments of the deanery were still drawn from the same
sources as at an earlier period; but Owen, in common with many of the
Independents and all the Presbyterians of his times, was not in principle
opposed to the support of the teachers of religion by national funds.<note place="foot" n="53" id="iv-p1.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p2">Discourse
of Toleration, Owen’s Sermons, fol. ed. p. 308.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p3">His
scruples in accepting office in Oxford, and especially in consenting to be
raised to the high position of vice-chancellor, arose from other causes; and it
needed all the authority of Cromwell, and all the influence of the senate,
completely to overcome them.  It
required him to do violence to some of his best affections and strongest
predilections to tear himself away from the studious days and the happy pastorate
of Coggeshall; and perhaps it demanded a higher pitch of resolution still to
undertake the government of a university which had been brought to the very
brink of ruin by the civil wars, and from which, during the intervening years,
it had very partially recovered.  During
those years of commotion, learning had almost been forgotten for arms; and
Oxford, throwing itself with a more than chivalrous loyalty into the cause of
Charles, had drained its treasury, and even melted its plate, in order to
retrieve his waning fortunes.  The
consequence had been, that at the end of the civil war, when the cause of the
Parliament triumphed, many of its halls and colleges were closed; others of
them had been converted into magazines for stores and barracks for soldiers;
the studious habits of its youth had been completely disturbed, and the
university burdened with a debt of almost hopeless magnitude.  Some of the worst of these evils still
remained, — others of them were only partially diminished; and when we add to
this the spirit of destructive Vandalism with which a noisy party began to
regard those ancient seats of learning, the licentiousness and insubordination
which the students had borrowed from the armies of the Royalists, as well as
the jealousy with which Owen was regarded by the secret friends of Episcopacy,
and by Presbyterians who had been displaced by Cromwell from high positions in
order to give place to Independents, it is easy to see that it required no
common courage to seize the helm at such a moment, to grapple with such varied
and formidable difficulties, and to reduce such discordant elements to peace.<note place="foot" n="54" id="iv-p3.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p4">Neal, iii.
360, 361.  Walker’s Sufferings of the
Clergy, pp. 122, 123, 128.  Owen’s <span lang="LA" id="iv-p4.1">Oratio Quinta ad Academicos, anno
1657.  “Per primum biennium vulgi fuimus
et vulgaris fabula.”</span></p></note> 
Such was the work to which Owen now betook himself.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p5">It is
only too evident that even at the present day it requires, in the case of many,
something like a mental effort against early prejudice, to conceive of this
Puritan pastor occupying the lofty eminence to which he was now raised with a
suitable amount of dignity and grace. 
Not only the <pb n="XLVIII" id="iv-Page_XLVIII" />author of “Hudibras,” but even
Clarendon and Hume, have written of the Puritans in the style of caricature,
and cleverly confounding them under a common name with ignorant and extravagant
sectaries whom the Puritans all along condemned and disowned, have too long
succeeded in representing the popular type of the Puritans as that of men of
affected sanctity, pedantic and piebald dialect, sour temper, and unpolished
manner.  Those who indulge these
ignorant mistake forget that if the Puritan preachers were thus utterly deficient
in matters of taste and refinement, they had received their training at Oxford
and Cambridge, and that the reflection must, therefore, in all fairness, be
extended to those seminaries.  They
forget, moreover, as has been well remarked, that “it is more reasonable, and
certainly much more generous, to form our judgment with regard to religious
parties from the men among them who make their bequests to posterity, than from
such as constitute the weakness of a body rather than its strength, and who
die, as a matter of course, in the obscurity in which they have lived.”<note place="foot" n="55" id="iv-p5.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p6">Vaughan’s
Modern Pulpit, p. 87.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p7">But it
is remarkable, that all the leading men among the Puritan clergy were such as,
even in the matter of external grace and polish, might have stood before
kings.  The native majesty of John Howe,
refined by intercourse with families of noble birth, and his radiant
countenance, as if formed <span lang="LA" id="iv-p7.1"><i>meliore luto</i></span>, linger even in his
portraits.  Philip Henry, the playmate
of princes, bore with him into his country parish that “unbought grace of
life,” which, in spite of his sterner qualities, attracted towards him the most
polished families of his neighbourhood. 
Richard Baxter was the chosen associate of Sir Matthew Hale; and,
contrary even to the popular notions of those whose sympathies are all on the
side of Puritanism, Owen bore with him into public life none of the uncouth and
lumbering pedantry of the recluse, but associated with his more solid qualities
all the lighter graces of courtesy and taste. 
He is described by one contemporary as “of universal affability, ready
presence and discourse, liberal, graceful, and courteous demeanour, that speak
him certainly (whatsoever he be else) one that was more a gentleman than most
of the clergy.”<note place="foot" n="56" id="iv-p7.2"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p8">“Authority
of the Magistrate in Religion Discussed,” &amp;c., by J. H.; whom Anthony Wood
(Athen. Oxon., iv. 101) supposes to be John Humphrey.</p></note> 
And Dodwell says, “His personage was proper and comely, and he had a
very graceful behaviour in the pulpit, an eloquent elocution, a winning and
insinuating deportment, and could, by the persuasion of his oratory, in
conjunction with some other outward advantages, move and wind the affections of
his auditory almost as he pleased.”<note place="foot" n="57" id="iv-p8.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p9">Wood’s
Athen. Oxon., ibid. — We subjoin Wood’s own caricature: “While he [Owen] did
undergo the same office, he, instead of being a grave example to the
university, scorned all formality, undervalued his office by going in quirpo
like a young scholar, with powdered hair, snakebone bandstrings (or bandstrings
with very large tassles), lawn bands, a very large set of ribbons pointed at
his knees, and Spanish leather boots with large lawn tops, and his hat mostly
cock’d.” — Ibid. 98.</p></note> 
It is with such a manner that we can conceive him to have <pb n="XLIX" id="iv-Page_XLIX" />addressed the assembled heads of colleges, when he assumed the
helm at Oxford with tremulous hand, yet with firm determination to do his
utmost to discharge his high stewardship.</p>
<blockquote id="iv-p9.1"><p id="iv-p10">“I am
well aware,” said he, “gentlemen of the university, of the grief you must feel
that, after so many venerable names, reverend persons, depositaries and
preceptors of the arts and sciences, the fates of the university should have at
last placed him as leader of the company who almost closes the rear.  Neither, indeed, is this state of our
affairs, of whatever kind it be, very agreeable to myself, since I am compelled
to regard my return, after a long absence, to my beloved mother as a prelude to
the duties of a laborious and difficult situation.  But complaints are not remedies of any misfortune.  Whatever their misfortune, groans become not
grave and honourable men.  It is the
part of an undaunted mind boldly to bear up under a heavy burden.  For, as the comic poet says, —</p></blockquote>
<verse id="iv-p10.1">
<l id="iv-p10.2">“ ‘The life of man</l>
<l id="iv-p10.3">is like a game at tables.  If the cast</l>
<l id="iv-p10.4">Which is most necessary be not
thrown,</l>
<l id="iv-p10.5">That which chance sends, you must
correct by art.’<note place="foot" n="58" id="iv-p10.6"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p11">Terence,
Adelph. iv. 7, 21.</p></note></l>
</verse>
<blockquote id="iv-p11.1"><p id="iv-p12">“The
academic vessel, too long, alas!  tossed
by storms, being almost entirely abandoned by all whose more advanced age,
longer experience, and well-earned literary titles, excited great and just
expectations, I have been called upon, by the partiality and too good opinion
of him whose commands we must not gainsay, and with whom the most earnest
entreaties to be excused were urged in vain, and also by the consenting
suffrage of this senate; and, therefore although there is perhaps no one more
unfit, I approach the helm.  In what
times, what manners, what diversities of opinion (dissensions and calumnies
everywhere raging in consequence of party spirit), what bitter passions and
provocations, what pride and malice, our academical authority has occurred, I
both know and lament.  Nor is it only
the character of the age that distracts us, but another calamity to our
literary establishment, which is daily becoming more conspicuous, — the
contempt, namely, of the sacred authority of law, and of the reverence due to
our ancestors; the watchful envy of Malignants; the despised tears and sobs of
our almost dying mother, the university (with the eternal loss of the class of
gownsmen, and the no small hazard of the whole institution); and the detestable
audacity and licentiousness, manifestly Epicurean beyond all the bounds of
modesty and piety, in which, alas! too many of the students indulge.  Am <pb n="L" id="iv-Page_L" />I, then, able, in this tottering
state of all things, to apply a remedy to this complication of difficulties, in
which so many and so great heroes have, in the most favourable times, laboured
in vain?  I am not, gentlemen, so
self-sufficient.  Were I to act the part
of one so impertinently disposed to flatter himself, nay, were the slightest
thought of such a nature to enter my mind, I should be quite displeased with
myself.  I live not so far from home,
nor am such a stranger to myself, I use not my eyes so much in the manner of
witches, as not to know well how scantily I am furnished with learning,
prudence, authority, and wisdom. 
Antiquity has celebrated Lucullus as a prodigy in nature, who, though
unacquainted with even the duty of a common soldier, became without any
difficulty an expert general; so that the man whom the city sent out
inexperienced in fighting, him the army received a complete master of the art
of war.  Be of good courage, gentlemen.  I bring no prodigies; from the obscurity of
a rural situation, from the din of arms, from journeys for the sake of the
gospel into the most distant parts of the island, and also beyond sea, from the
bustle of the court, I have retreated unskilful in the government of the
university; unskilful, also, I am come hither.</p><p id="iv-p13">“ ‘What
madness is this, then?’ you will say. 
‘Why have you undertaken that which you are unable to execute, far less
to adorn?  You have judged very ill for
yourself, for the university, and for this venerable senate.’  Softly, my hearers; neither hope nor courage
wholly fails one who is swayed by the judgment, the wishes, the commands, the
entreaties of the highest characters. 
We are not ourselves the sources of worthy deeds of any kind.  ‘He who ministereth seed to the sower,’ and
who from the mouths of infants has ordained strength, is able graciously to
supply all defects, whether caused from without or felt within.  Destitute, therefore, of any strength and
boldness of my own, and of any adventitious aid through influence with the
university, so far as I know or have deserved, it nevertheless remains to me to
commit myself wholly to Him ‘who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth
not.’  He has appointed an eternal
fountain of supply in Christ, who furnisheth seasonable help to every pious
endeavour, unless our littleness of faith stand in the way; thence must I wait
and pray for light, for strength, and for courage.  Trusting, therefore, in his graciously promised presence, according
to the state of the times, and the opportunity which, through divine Providence
we have obtained, — conscious integrity alone supplying the place of arts and
of all embellishments, — without either a depressed or servile spirit, I
address myself to this undertaking.”<note place="foot" n="59" id="iv-p13.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p14"><span lang="LA" id="iv-p14.1">Oratio prima</span>,
translated by Orme, pp. 128–131.</p></note></p></blockquote>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p15">The
facts that have been preserved by Owen’s biographers sufficiently <pb n="LI" id="iv-Page_LI" />prove that this inaugural address was no mere language of
dignified ceremony.  By infusing that
tolerant spirit into his administration which he had often commended in his
days of suffering, but which so many in those times forgot when they rose to
power, — by a generous impartiality in the bestowal of patronage, — by an
eagerness to detect modest merit, and to help struggling poverty, — by a firm
repression of disorder and licentiousness, and a steadfast encouragement of
studious habits and good conduct, — he succeeded, during the few years of his
vice-chancellorship, in curing the worst evils of the university, and restoring
it to such a condition of prosperity as to command at length even the reluctant
praise of Clarendon.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p16">Among
other honourable facts, it is recorded that he allowed a society of
Episcopalians to meet every Lord’s day over against his own door,<note place="foot" n="60" id="iv-p16.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p17">“At the
house of Dr Willis the physician, not far from his own lodgings at
Christchurch.” — Biograph. Dict., x. 103.</p></note> and to celebrate public worship
according to the forms of the liturgy, though the laws at that period put it in
Owen’s power to disperse the assembly; and there were not wanting those of a
less enlarged and unsectarian spirit to urge him to such a course.  In the same wise and conciliatory spirit he
won the confidence of the Presbyterians, by bestowing upon their ablest men
some of the vacant livings that were at his disposal, and taking counsel of
them in all difficulties and emergencies. 
Many a poor and promising student was aided by him with sums of money,
and with that well-timed encouragement which is more gratifying than silver and
gold, and which, in more than one instance, was found to have given the first
impulse on the road to fame.  Foreign
students of hopeful ability were admitted through his influence to the use of
the libraries and to free commons; and one poor youth, in whose Latin epistle,
informing Owen of his necessities, he had discovered an unusual “sharpness of
wit,” was at once received by him as tutor into his own family.<note place="foot" n="61" id="iv-p17.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p18">Asty, pp.
xi., xii.  Calamy’s Noncon. Mem., i.
201.  Wood’s Fasti, ii. 788.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p19">But,
amid these generous and conciliatory measures, Owen knew how, by acts of
wholesome severity, to put a curb upon licentiousness, and to invigorate the
whole discipline of the university.  At
a public Act, when one of the students of Trinity College was <span lang="LA" id="iv-p19.1"><i>Terræ filius</i></span>, he stood up before the student began, and told him in Latin that
he was at liberty to say what he pleased, on condition that he abstained from
all profane and obscene expressions and personal reflections.  The student began, but soon violated all the
conditions that had been laid down to him. 
Owen repeatedly warned him to desist from a course so dishonouring to
the university; but the youth obstinately persisting in the same strain, he at
length commanded the beadles to pull him down. 
This was a signal for the students to interpose; on <pb n="LII" id="iv-Page_LII" />which Owen, determined that the authority of the university should
not be insolently trampled on, rose from his seat, in the face of the
remonstrances of his friends, who were concerned for his personal safety, drew
the offender from his place with his own hand, and committed him to Bocardo,
the prison of the university, — the students meanwhile standing aloof with
amazement and fear at his resolution.<note place="foot" n="62" id="iv-p19.2"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p20">Asty, pp.
xi., xii.</p></note> 
Was there not something, in this scene, of that robust physical energy
which had distinguished Owen at Oxford in earlier days in bell-ringing and the
leaping of bars?</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p21">But the
aims of the vice-chancellor rose far above the mere attempt to restrain
licentiousness within moderate bounds; — his whole arrangements were made with
the anxious desire of awakening and fostering among the students the power of a
living piety.  His own example, as well
as the pervading spirit of his administration, would contribute much to this;
and there are not wanting individual facts to show with what earnestness he
watched and laboured for the religious well-being of the university.  It had been customary for the Fellows to
preach by turn on the afternoon of the Lord’s day in St. Mary’s Church; but, on
its being found that the highest ends of preaching were often more injured than
advanced by this means, he determined to undertake this service alternately
with Dr Goodwin, the head of Magdalen College, and in this way to secure to the
youth of Oxford the advantage of a sound and serious ministry.  It is interesting to open, nearly two
hundred years afterwards, the reminiscences of one of the students, and to read
his strong and grateful testimony to the benefits he had derived from these
arrangements of the Puritan vice-chancellor. 
We have this privilege in the “Memoir of Philip Henry, by his son.”  “He would often mention, with thankfulness
to God,” says the quaint and pious biographer, “what great helps and advantages
he had then in the university, — not only for learning, but for religion and
piety.  Serious godliness was in
reputation; and, besides the public opportunities they had, many of the
scholars used to meet together for prayer and Christian conference, to the great
confirming of one another’s hearts in the fear and love of God, and the
preparing of them for the service of the church in their generation.  I have heard him speak of the prudent method
they took then about the university sermons on the Lord’s day, in the
afternoon, which used to be preached by the fellows of colleges in their
course; but that being found not so much for edification, Dr Owen and Dr
Goodwin performed that service alternately, and the young masters that were
wont to preach it had a lecture on Tuesday appointed them.”<note place="foot" n="63" id="iv-p21.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p22">Life and
Times of Philip Henry, p. 60.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p23">But the
combined duties of his two onerous offices at Oxford did <pb n="LIII" id="iv-Page_LIII" />not absorb all the energies of Owen.  His mind appears to have expanded with his position, and to have
shown resources that were literally inexhaustible.  The few years which saw him the chief agent in raising the
university from the brink of ruin, were those in which he was most frequently
summoned by Cromwell to his councils, and in which he gave to the world
theological works which would have been sufficient of themselves in the case of
most men, to occupy and to recompense the energies of a lifetime.  We now turn with him, then, for a little to
the platform of public life, and to the toils of authorship.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p24">On the
25<sup>th</sup> of August 1653 we again find him preaching, by command, before
Parliament, on occasion of that celebrated victory over the Dutch fleet which
established the reputation of the arms of the Commonwealth by sea, and paved
the way for an honourable and advantageous peace with Holland.  In October of the same year he was invited
by Cromwell to London, to take part, along with some other ministers, in a
conference on Christian union.  The
matter is stated in such interesting terms in one of the newspapers of the day,
and, besides, affords such a valuable incidental glimpse of Cromwell’s administration,
that we prefer giving it in the words of that document:— “Several ministers
were treated with by his Excellency the Lord-General Cromwell, to persuade them
that hold Christ, the head, and so are the same fundamentals, to agree in love,
— that there be no such divisions among people professing godliness as has
been, nor railing or reviling each other for difference only in forms.  There were Mr Owen, Mr Marshall
(Presbyterian), Mr Nye (Independent), Mr Jessey (Baptist), Mr Harrison, and
others; to whom the advice and counsel of his Excellency were so sweet and
precious, and managed with each judgment and graciousness, that it is hoped it
will much tend to persuade those that fear the Lord in spirit and truth to
labour for the union of all God’s people.”<note place="foot" n="64" id="iv-p24.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p25">Cromwelliana, Orme, p. 109.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p26">It does
not appear that any immediate practical measures resulted from this
conference.  The mistake, by which many
such laudable attempts were defeated, was that of attempting too much
incorporation was sought, when they should have been satisfied with mutual
Christian recognition and co-operation up to the point of agreement; and
sometimes a constrained silence on matters of difference, where there should
rather have been a generous forbearance. 
But it is wrong to speak of such conferences and communing, when they
failed of their immediate object, as either useless or fruitless.  To the good men who mingled in them, it must
have deepened the feeling of unity even where it did not increase its
manifestation, and even unconsciously to themselves must have lowered the walls
of division.  Nor is it without interest
and instruction to remark, that the best men of <pb n="LIV" id="iv-Page_LIV" />that age and of the next were ever
the readiest to give themselves to movements that had this aim.  Owen, by the reproaches which he brought
upon himself on this account from weaker brethren, showed himself to be before
his age.  The pure spirit of Howe, which
dwelt in a region so far above the petty passions of earth, has expressed its
longings to see the church made “more awful and more amiable” by union, in his
essay “On Union among Protestants,” and “On the Carnality of Religious
Contentions.”  Baxter, with all his
passion for dialectics, felt and owned the power of these holy attractions and
longed the more for the everlasting rest, that he would there at length see the
perfect realization of union.<note place="foot" n="65" id="iv-p26.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p27">His spirit
is expressed in the following tender words, with which he closed one his
debates: “While we wrangle here in the dark, we are dying, and passing to the
world that will decide all our controversies; and the safest passage thither is
by a peaceable holiness.”</p></note> 
And the saintly Usher, prompted in part by the sublime seasonings of
Howe, actually proposed a scheme of comprehension, of which, though defective
in some of its provisions, and not permitted to be realized, God doubtless
said, “It was good that it was in thine heart to do it.”  The Puritans did more than make unsuccessful
experiments of union: they expounded in their writings many of the principles
on which alone it can be accomplished; and it seems now only to need a revival
of religion from on high in order to accomplish what they so eagerly
desired.  They were the Davids who
prepared the materials of the temple, — shall the Christian of this age be the
sons of peace who shall be honoured to build?</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p28">It was
in all likelihood while Owen was attending in London on the meetings of this
conference, that the senate embraced the opportunity of diplomating him Doctor
of Divinity.  For we find it recorded by
Wood in his “<span lang="LA" id="iv-p28.1">Fasti
Oxoniensis</span>,” that, “On Dec 23, John Owen,
M.A., dean of Ch. Ch., and vice-chancellor of the university, was then (he
being at Lond.) diplomated doct. of div.” 
He is said in his diploma to be “<span lang="LA" id="iv-p28.2">in
palæstra theologia exercitatissimus, in concionando assiduus et potens, in
disputando strenuus et acutus</span>.”<note place="foot" n="66" id="iv-p28.3"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p29">Wood’s
Fasti, ii. 179.</p></note> 
Owen’s friend, Thomas Goodwin, president of Magdalen College, was
diplomated on the same occasion; and the honoured associates are sneeringly
described by Wood, after his manner, as “the two Atlases and Patriarchs of
Independency.”<note place="foot" n="67" id="iv-p29.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p30">Wood’s
Athen. Oxon., iv. 98.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p31">In the
midst of these engagements, Dr Owen produced and published, in Latin, one of
his most abstruse dissertations, — “<span lang="LA" id="iv-p31.1">Diatriba
de Divina Justitia</span>, etc.; or, the Claims of
Vindicatory Justice Asserted.”  The
principle which it is the design of this treatise to explain and establish is,
that God, considered as a moral governor, could not forgive sin without an
atonement, or such provision for his justice as that which is made by the
sacrifice of Christ.  It had fallen to
his lot <pb n="LV" id="iv-Page_LV" />some months before, in certain
theological discussions to which he was called by his office, “to discourse and
dispute on the vindicatory justice of God, and the necessity of its exercise on
the supposition of the existence of sin;” and his hurried treatment of the
subject, in the brief hour which was allowed him, had the rare success of
bringing many over to his views.  Owen
was convinced that his principle “struck its roots deep through almost the
whole of theology.”<note place="foot" n="68" id="iv-p31.2"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p32">Preface, p.
viii.</p></note> 
He saw plainly that its effect, if established, was to raze the very
foundations of Socinian error; — yet he was grieved to find that many excellent
divines, who held views in common with him on all the great truths of the evangelical
system, wavered on this, and that some honoured names had lately given a new
sanction to the opposite opinion; among whom were Dr Twisse of Newbury,
prolocutor of the Westminster Assembly, in his “<span lang="LA" id="iv-p32.1">Vindicicæ
Gratiæ, Potestatis, ac Providentiæ divinæ</span>,” and the venerable Samuel
Rutherford of St Andrew, in his “<span lang="LA" id="iv-p32.2">Disputatio
Scholastica de divina Providentia</span>.”<note place="foot" n="69" id="iv-p32.3"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p33">Orme, p.
153.</p></note> 
This made him the more readily accede to the wishes of those who had
received benefit and confirmation from his verbal exposition of the subject,
that he would enter on its more orderly and deliberate investigation.  We do not wonder that the future expositor
of the Epistle to the Hebrews should have been strongly prompted to contend for
this principle, since it seems wrought up with more than one part of that
colossal argument of inspired theology.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p34">In
pursuing his argument, he evidently felt himself dazzled at times by the lustre
of those interior truths to which his thoughts were turned.  “Those points,” he remarks, “which dwell in
more intimate recesses, and approach nearer its immense fountain, the Father of
light, darting brighter rays by their excess of light, present a confounding
darkness to the minds of the greatest men, and are as darkness to the eyes
breaking forth amidst so great light. 
For what we call darkness in divine subjects is nothing else than their
celestial glory and splendour striking on the weak ball of our eyes, the rays
of which we are not able in this life, which is but a vapour and shineth but a
little, to bear.”<note place="foot" n="70" id="iv-p34.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p35">Many
readers will be struck by the resemblance between this noble passage and that
of Owen’s greatest contemporary:—</p>
<verse id="iv-p35.1">
<l id="iv-p35.2">“Thee, Author of all being,</l>
<l id="iv-p35.3">Fountain of light, thyself
invisible</l>
<l id="iv-p35.4">Amidst the glorious
brightness where thou sittest</l>
<l id="iv-p35.5">Throned inaccessible; but
when thou shadest</l>
<l id="iv-p35.6">The full blaze of thy beams,
and through a cloud,</l>
<l id="iv-p35.7">Drawn round about thee like
a radiant shrine,</l>
<l id="iv-p35.8">Dark with excessive bright
thy skirts appear;</l>
<l id="iv-p35.9">Yet dazzle heaven, that
brightest seraphim</l>
<l id="iv-p35.10">Approach not, but with both
wings veil their eyes.”</l>
</verse>
<attr id="iv-p35.11">Par. Lost., book iii. 374–382.</attr></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p36">In other
places we can trace indications, that when he was rising <pb n="LVI" id="iv-Page_LVI" />to the height of his great argument, his fertile mind was
revolving new treatises, which he afterwards gave to the world, and longing for
the hour when he would descend from his present altitudes to those truths which
bear more directly and powerfully on the spiritual life: “There are, no doubt,
many other portions and subjects of our religion, of that blessed trust
committed to us for our instructions on which we might dwell with greater
pleasure and satisfaction of mind. 
Such, I mean, as afford a more free and wider scope of ranging through
the most pleasant meads of the holy Scripture, and contemplating in these the
transparent fountains of life and rivers of consolation; — subjects which,
unencumbered by the thickets of scholastic terms and distinctions,
unembarrassed by the impediments and sophisms of an enslaving philosophy or
false knowledge, sweetly and pleasantly lead into a pure, unmixed, and
delightful fellowship with the Father and with his Son, shedding abroad in the
heart the inmost loves of our Beloved, with the odour of his sweet ointment
poured forth.”<note place="foot" n="71" id="iv-p36.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p37">Preface, p.
xx.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p38">The
usual number of replies followed the appearance of this treatise, in which
Baxter once more stood forth equipped in his ready armour.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p39">In the
following year Dr Owen gave to the world another work, of much greater
magnitude, extending over nearly five hundred folio pages.  He has himself supplied its best description
and analysis in its ample title-page, — “The Doctrine of the Saints’
Perseverance Explained and Confirmed; or, the certain permanency of their
acceptation with God and sanctification from God manifested and proved, from
the eternal principles, the effectual causes, and the external means thereof;
in the immutability of the nature, decrees, covenant, and promises of God; the
oblation and intercession of Jesus Christ; the promises, exhortations, and
threats of the Gospel: improved in its genuine tendency to obedience and
consolation.”  The work was immediately
called forth by the “Redemption Redeemed” of John Goodwin, an Arminian writer,
to whom Owen allows nearly all the most brilliant qualities of a
controversialist, except a good cause. 
He describes him as not only clothing every conception of his mind with
language of a full and choice significance, but also trimming and adorning it
with all manner of signal improvements that may render it keen or pleasant,
according to his intendment and desire, and happily applies to him the words of
the Roman poet:—</p>
<verse id="iv-p39.1">
<l id="iv-p39.2">“<span lang="LA" id="iv-p39.3">Monte
decurrens velut amnis, imbres</span></l>
<l id="iv-p39.4"><span lang="LA" id="iv-p39.5">Quem
super notas aluêre ripas,</span></l>
<l id="iv-p39.6"><span lang="LA" id="iv-p39.7">Fervet,
immensusque ruit profundo</span></l>
<l id="iv-p39.8"><span lang="LA" id="iv-p39.9">Pindarus
ore</span>.”</l>
</verse>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p40"><pb n="LVII" id="iv-Page_LVII" />The treatise, however, would be
almost as complete were every part of it that refers to Goodwin expunged, and
undeniably forms the most masterly vindication of the perseverance of the saints
in the English tongue.  Even Goodwin,
with all his luxuriant eloquence, is sadly shattered when grasped by the mailed
hand of the great Puritan.</p>
<verse id="iv-p40.1">
<l id="iv-p40.2">“<span lang="LA" id="iv-p40.3">Luxuriant
artus, effusaque sanguine laxo</span></l>
<l id="iv-p40.4"><span lang="LA" id="iv-p40.5">Membra
natant</span>.”</l>
</verse>
<p class="Normal" id="iv-p41">The style
of argument is much more popular than that of the former treatise; partly
because of the insinuating rhetoric of his adversary, and also because Owen
knew that Arminian sentiments had found their way into many of the churches,
and that if he was to convince the people, he must write for the people.  The following weighty sentence refers to his
avoidance of philosophical terms and scholastic forms of argument, and is worthy
of Owen’s sanctified wisdom: “That which we account our wisdom and learning
may, if too rigorously attended, be our folly: when we think to sharpen the
reason of the Scripture, we may straiten the efficacy of the spirit of it.  It is oftentimes more effectual in its own
liberty, than when restrained to our methods of arguing; and the weapons of it
keener in their own soft breathing, than when sharpened in the forge of
Aristotle.”<note place="foot" n="72" id="iv-p41.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p42">Epistle
Dedicatory to the Heads of Colleges, etc., at Oxford, p. 8.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p43">No part
of this elaborate work is more characteristic of Dr Owen than his preface to
the reader, which extends over forty folio pages, until you begin to fear that
“the gate shall become wider than the city.” 
It contains an account of the treatment which the doctrine had received
from the first Christian century to his own; and in its pages, which are
literally variegated with Greek and Latin citations, displays an immense
research.  But what most surprises the
reader, is to find the Doctor, when about the middle of his way, deliberately
turning aside to discuss with Dr Hammond the genuineness of the Epistles of
Ignatius, and to weigh the evidence which they would afford, on the supposition
of their genuineness, for a primitive Episcopacy.  One is tempted to trace a resemblance between the theological
writing of those times and their modes of journeying.  There was no moving in those days with all possible directness
and celerity to the goal.  The traveller
stopped when he pleased, diverged where he pleased, and as often as he pleased,
whenever he wished to salute a friend or to settle a controversy.  — The work is dedicated to Cromwell.  The strong language in which Owen speaks of
his religious sincerity is interesting, as showing the estimate which was
formed of the Protector’s character by those who had the best opportunities of
judging regarding it.<note place="foot" n="73" id="iv-p43.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p44">“In the
midst of all the changes and mutations which the infinitely wise providence of
God doth daily effect in the greater and lesser things of this world, as to the
communication of his love in Jesus Christ, and the merciful, gracious
distribution of the unsearchable riches of his grace, and the hid treasures
thereof purchased by his blood, he knows no repentance.  Of both these you have had full experience.  And though your concernment in the former
hath been as eminent as that of any person whatever in these later ages of the
world, yet your interest in and acquaintance with the latter is, as of
incomparably more importance in itself, so answerably of more value and esteem
into you.” —Dedication to His Highness, Oliver, Lord Protector.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p45"><pb n="LVIII" id="iv-Page_LVIII" />The mention of Cromwell’s name
naturally brings us back to public events, and to an occurrence which, more
than almost any other in Owen’s life, laid him open to the reproaches of his
enemies.  Cromwell having dissolved the
Long Parliament in the end of 1653, had a few months after issued writs for a
new election.  The university of Oxford
was empowered to return one member to this Parliament, and Dr Owen was
elected.  That he did not evince any
decided unwillingness to accept this new office may be presumed for the fact
that he at once took his seat in the House, and continued to sit until the
committee of privileges, on account of his being a minister of religion,
declared his election annulled.  His
systematic detractors have fastened on this part of his conduct with all the
instinct of vultures, and even his friends have only ventured, for the most
part, on a timid and hesitating defence. 
Cawdrey and Anthony Wood, not satisfied with commenting on the fact of
his seeming eagerness to grasp at civil power, accuse him, on the authority of
public rumour, of refusing to say whether he was a minister or not, — a charge
which he left at first to be answered by its own absurdity, but which, on
finding some actually crediting it, he repelled with a pardonable amount of vehement
indignation, declaring it to be “so remote from any thing to give a pretence or
colour to it, that I question whether Satan have impudence enough to own
himself its author.”<note place="foot" n="74" id="iv-p45.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p46">Wood’s
Athen. Oxon., iv. 99.  Pref. to Cotton’s
Defence, Orme, p. 112.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p47">But
there have been others, who, while disowning all sympathy with these birds of
evil omen that haunted the path of the noble Puritan, have questioned the
propriety and consistency of one in Owen’s circumstances, and with all his
strongly-professed longings for the duties of a tranquil pastorate, so readily
“entangling himself with the affairs of this life;” and this is certainly a
more tenable ground of objection.  And
yet, to judge Owen rightly, we must take into view all the special elements of
the case.  All except those who see in
ordination a mysterious and indissoluble spell, and hold the Romish figment of
“once a priest, always a priest,” will admit that emergencies may arise in a
commonwealth when even the Christian minister may, for the sake of
accomplishing the highest amount of good, place in abeyance the peculiar duties
of his office, and merge the pastor in the legislator.  Persons had sat with this conviction in the
immediately previous Parliament; and in the last century, Dr Witherspoon, one
of the <pb n="LIX" id="iv-Page_LIX" />purest and most conscientious of
Scottish ecclesiastics, after emigrating to America, united the duties of
pastor and president of Jersey College with those of a member of Congress, and
was only second to Washington and Franklin in laying the foundations of the
infant republic.<note place="foot" n="75" id="iv-p47.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p48">Life of Dr
Witherspoon, prefixed to works, pp. xix.–xxiii.</p></note> 
Dr Owen, in all likelihood, acted on principles similar to those which
swayed the Scottish divine; and when we consider the avowed and fanatical
animosity with which Oxford was regarded by a turbulent party in the state, as
well as the active interest which Cromwell and his, Parliament took in the
religious condition of the nation, it is easy to conceive how Owen felt that he
was only placing himself in a better position for watching over the well-being
of the university, and for promoting the interests of religion and of religious
liberty, by being there to bear his part in the deliberations regarding
it.  At the same time, with all these
facts before us to qualify our censure, we cannot help thinking that when Owen
saw the validity of his election so vehemently questioned, he would have
consulted his dignity more had he declined to sit.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p49">In the
“Instrument of Government” presented by Cromwell to this Parliament, it was
proposed that all who professed faith in God by Jesus Christ should be
protected in their religion.  In the
debates which took place on this part of the instrument, its language was
interpreted as recommending toleration to those only who were agreed on the
fundamentals of Christian doctrine, — an interpretation which, there is reason
to think, injuriously restricted the Protector’s meaning.  But the question immediately arose, what
were fundamentals? and a committee of fourteen was appointed to prepare a
statement for the House on this subject; who, in their turn, committed the work
to fourteen divines of eminence.  Owen
was on this committee; and, according to Baxter, had the principal share in
“wording the articles.”  He has been
blamed for seeking to limit the blessings of toleration, on the now
generally-admitted principle, that a man’s religious belief ought not to be
made the condition of his civil privileges. 
But the censure is misplaced. 
Owen was responsible for the correctness of his answers, — not for the
use which the Parliament might make of them; but the abrupt dissolution of the
Parliament which, disappointed Cromwell’s expectations, prevented their being
embodied in any legislative measure.<note place="foot" n="76" id="iv-p49.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p50">Baxter’s
own Life, p. 205.  Neal, iv. 88–91.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p51">About
the same period Dr Owen was invited by the Protector and his Council to form
part of a committee, from whose labours the cause of religion in England reaped
great and permanent advantage.  We refer
to the commission appointed to examine candidates for ordination; whose powers
soon after included the ejection of ministers <pb n="LX" id="iv-Page_LX" />and schoolmasters of heretical
doctrine and scandalous life.  Cromwell
has been condemned for thus invading the proper functions of the church; and
undoubtedly he did in this measure boldly overstep the province of the
legislator; at the same time, he was right in thinking that the true greatness
of his kingdom, and the stability of his government, depended on the pervading
influence of religion among the people; and that it was better that the church
should in this irregular manner be purged of its hirelings and moneychangers,
than left to sink into inefficiency and corruption.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p52">About
forty ministers, “the acknowledged flower of Puritanism,” were united with a
few Puritan laymen, and appointed to this most delicate office.  Undoubtedly, the power committed to them was
tremendous, and, in the hands of unscrupulous men, might have been turned to
purposes the most inquisitorial and vile. 
But seldom has power been less abused, or the rare and incidental
mischief arising from its exercise, more immeasurably outweighed by its
substantial benefits.  It afforded,
indeed, a tempting theme for the profane genius of Hudibras, to represent the
triers, in their inquiries regarding the spiritual life of candidates, as
endeavouring —</p>
<verse id="iv-p52.1">
<l id="iv-p52.2">“To find, in lines of beard and
face,</l>
<l id="iv-p52.3">The physiognomy of grace;</l>
<l id="iv-p52.4">And, by the sound of twang and
nose,</l>
<l id="iv-p52.5">If all be sound within disclose;”</l>
</verse>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p53">and high
Royalists and partisans like Bishop Kennet, who had probably smarted under
their investigations, in their eagerness to find matter of accusation against
them, might blunder out unconscious praise. 
But the strong assertion of the historian of the Puritans has never been
disproved, — that not a single instance can be produced of any who were
rejected for insufficiency without being first convicted either of immorality,
of obnoxious sentiments in the Socinian or Pelagian controversy, or of
disaffection to the present government. 
Cromwell could, before his second Parliament, refer to the labours of
the commissioners in such strong terms as these: “There has not been such a service
to England since the Christian religion was perfect in England!  I dare be bold to say it.”  And the well-balanced testimony of Baxter,
given with all his quaint felicity, may be held, when we consider that he had
looked on the appointment of the triers with no friendly eye, as introducing
all the shadings necessary to truth: “Because this assembly of triers is most
heavily accused and reproached by some men, I shall speak the truth of them;
and suppose my word will be taken, because most of them took me for one of
their boldest adversaries.  The truth
is, though some few over-rigid and over-busy Independents among them were too
severe against all that were Arminians, and too particular in inquiring after
evidences of sanctification <pb n="LXI" id="iv-Page_LXI" />in those whom they examined, and
somewhat too lax in admitting of unlearned and erroneous men that favoured
Antinomianism or Anabaptism; yet, to give them their due, they did abundance of
good in the church.  They saved many a
congregation from ignorant, ungodly, drunken teachers, — that sort of men who
intend no more in the ministry then to read a sermon on Sunday, and all the
rest of the week go with the people to the alehouse and harden them in sin; and
that sort of ministers who either preached against a holy life, or preached as
men who were never acquainted with it. 
These they usually rejected, and in their stead admitted of any that
were able, serious preachers, and lived a godly life, of what tolerable opinion
soever they were; so that, though many of them were a little partial for the
Independents, Separatists, Fifth-monarchy Men, and Anabaptists, and against the
Prelatists and Arminians, yet so great was the benefit above the hurt which
they brought to the church, that many thousands of souls blessed God for the
faithful ministers whom they let in, and grieved when the Prelatists afterwards
cast them out again.”<note place="foot" n="77" id="iv-p53.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p54">Neal, iv.
92–97.  Baxter’s own Life, part i. p.
72.  Orme, pp. 116–119.  Vaughan’s Stuart Dynasty, pp. 247–250.  D’Aubigné’s Protectorate, pp. 231–236.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p55">Every
student of the Puritan history is familiar with the magnanimous act of Howe, in
recommending Fuller the historian for ordination, though a Royalist, because he
“made conscience of his thoughts;”<note place="foot" n="78" id="iv-p55.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p56">Calamy’s
Life of Howe, prefixed to works, p. v. 
Neal, iv. 97.</p></note> and an equally high-minded and
generous act of impartiality is recorded of Owen.  Dr Pocock, professor of Arabic in Oxford, and one of the greatest
scholars in Europe, held a living in Berks, and was about to have hard measure
dealt to him by the commissioners for that county.  No sooner did Owen hear of this than he wrote to Thurloe,
Cromwell’s secretary, imploring him to stay such rash and disgraceful
procedure.  Not satisfied with this, he
hastened into Berkshire in person, warmly remonstrated with the commissioners
on the course which they seemed bent on pursuing, and only ceased when he had
obtained the honourable discharge of the menaced scholar from farther
attendance.<note place="foot" n="79" id="iv-p56.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p57">Biog.
Dict., x. 103.  Orme, p. 118.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p58">Owen’s
wisdom in council involved the natural penalty of frequent consultation; and,
accordingly, we find him in the following year again invited to confer with
Cromwell on a subject which, in addition to its own intrinsic interest,
acquires a new interest from recent agitation. 
Manasseh Ben Israel, a learned Jew from Amsterdam, had asked of Cromwell
and his government permission for the Jews to settle and trade in England, from
which they had been excluded since the thirteenth century.  Cromwell, favourable to the proposal
himself, <pb n="LXII" id="iv-Page_LXII" />submitted the question to a
conference of lawyers, merchants, and divines, whom he assembled, and whom he
wished to consider it in relation to the interests which they might be held
respectively to represent.  The lawyers
saw nothing in the admission of the Jews contrary to the laws of England, some
of the merchants were friendly, and some opposed; and though a living historian
has described the theologians as unanimous in their opposition, they were, in
fact, divided in their opinion too; some, like Mr Dury, being fierce in their
opposition, even to fanaticism; and others, of whom there is reason to think Dr
Owen was one, being prepared to admit them under certain restrictions.  Cromwell, however, was on this subject in
advance of all his counsellors, and indeed of his age, “from his shoulders and
upward he was higher than any of the people,” and displayed a faith in the
power of truth, and an ingenuity in turning the timid objections of his
advisers arguments by which they might at once have been instructed and
rebuked.  “Since there is a promise in
holy Scripture of the conversion of the Jews,” he said, “I do not know but the
preaching of the gospel, as it is now in England, without idolatry or
superstition, may conduce to it.”  “I
never heard a man speak so well,” was the future testimony of Sir Paul Ricaut,
who had pressed into the crowd.  The
good intentions of the Protector were defeated; but, as an expression of his
respect for the rabbi he ordered £200 to be paid to him out of the public
treasury.<note place="foot" n="80" id="iv-p58.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p59">Whitelock’s
Memorials, p. 673.  Neal, iv. 126–128.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p60">In the
midst of these public events, Owen’s pen had once more been turned to
authorship by the immediate command of the Council of State.  The catechisms of Biddle, the father of
English Socinianism, had given vogue to the errors of that school; and though various
writers of ability, such as Poole and Cheynel in England, and Cloppenburg,
Arnold, and Maretz on the continent, had already remarked on them, it was
deemed advisable that they should obtain a more complete and sifting exposure;
and Owen was selected, by the high authority we have named, to undertake the
task.  His “<span lang="LA" id="iv-p60.1">Vindiciæ
Evangelicæ</span>,” a work of seven hundred quarto
pages, embracing all the great points of controversy between the Socinian and
the Calvinist, was the fruit of this command; and was certainly a far more
suitable and efficient way of extinguishing the poor heresiarch, than the
repeated imprisonments to which he was subjected.  Dr Owen, however, does not confine himself to the writings of
Biddle, but includes in his review the Racovian catechism, which was the
confession of the foreign Socinians of that age; and the Annotations of
Grotius, — which, though nowhere directly teaching Socinian opinions, are
justly charged by him with explaining away those passages on which the peculiar
doctrines of the Gospel lean for their support, and thus, by extinguishing one <pb n="LXIII" id="iv-Page_LXIII" />light after another, leaving you at length in midnight
darkness.  An accomplished modern writer
has pointed out a mortifying identity between the dogmas of our modern
Pantheists and those of the Buddhists of India.<note place="foot" n="81" id="iv-p60.2"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p61">Vaughan’s
Age and Christianity, pp. 79–82.</p></note> 
It would be easy to show that the discoveries of our modern Neologists
and Rationalists are in truth the resurrection of the errors of Biddle,
Smalcius, and Moscorovius.<note place="foot" n="82" id="iv-p61.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p62">Princeton
Theol. Essays, First Series.  Essay on
the Doctrines of the Early Socinians.</p></note> 
Again and again, in those writings, which have slumbered beneath the
dust of two centuries, the student meets with the same speculations, supported
by the same reasonings and interpretations, that have startled him in the
modern German treatise, by their impious hardihood.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p63">You pass
into the body of this elaborate work through one of those learned porticoes in
which our author delights, and in which the history of Socinianism is traced
through its many forms and phases, from the days of Simon Magus to his
own.  No part of this history in of more
permanent value than his remarks on the controversial tactics of Socinians;
among which he especially notices their objection to the use of terms not to be
found in Scripture; and to which he replies, that “though such terms may not be
of absolute necessity to express the things themselves to the minds of
believers, they may yet be necessary to defend the truth from the opposition
and craft of seducers;” their cavilling against evangelical doctrines rather
than stating any positive opinions of their own, and, when finding it inconvenient
to oppose, or impossible to refute a doctrine, insisting on its not being
fundamental.  How much of the secret of
error in religion is detected in the following advice: “Take heed of the snare
of Satan in affecting eminency by singularity. 
It is good to strive to excel, and to go before one another in knowledge
and in light, as in holiness and obedience. 
To do this <i>in the road</i> is difficult.  Many, finding it impossible to emerge into any consideration by
walking in the beaten path of truth, and yet not able to conquer the itch of
being accounted <span lang="EL" class="Greek" id="iv-p63.1">τινες μεγαλοι</span>,
turn aside into by-ways, and turn the eyes of men to them by scrambling over
hedge and ditch, when the sober traveller is not at all regarded.”<note place="foot" n="83" id="iv-p63.2"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p64">Preface,
pp. 64, 65, quarto ed.</p></note> 
And the grand secret of continuing in the faith grounded and settled, is
expressed in the following wise sentences: “That direction in this kind which
with me is <span lang="LA" id="iv-p64.1"><i>instar omnium</i></span>, is for a diligent endeavour to
have the power of the truths professed and contended for abiding upon our
hearts; — that we may not contend for notions, but what we have a practical
acquaintance with in our own souls. 
When the heart is cast indeed into the mould of the doctrine that the
mind embraceth, — when the evidence and necessity <pb n="LXIV" id="iv-Page_LXIV" />of the truth abides in us, — when
not the sense of the words only is in our heads, but the sense of the things
abides in our hearts, when we have communion with God in the doctrine we
contend for, — then shall we be garrisoned by the grace of God against all the
assaults of men.”<note place="foot" n="84" id="iv-p64.2"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p65">Preface, p.
69.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p66">This
secret communion with God in the doctrines contended for was the true key to
Owen’s own steadfastness amid all those winds of doctrine which unsettled every
thing but what was rooted in the soil. 
We have an illustration of this in the next treatise, which he soon
after gave to the world, and in which he passes from the lists of controversy
to the practical exhibition of the Gospel as a life-power.  It was entitled, “On the Mortification of
Sin in Believers;” and contains the substance of some sermons which he had
preached on <scripRef passage="Rom. viii. 13" id="iv-p66.1" parsed="|Rom|8|13|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Rom.8.13">Rom. viii. 13</scripRef>.  He informs us that his
chief motives for this publication were, a wish to escape from the region of
public debate, and to produce something of more general use, that might seem a
fruit “of choice, not of necessity;” and also, “to provide an antidote for the
dangerous mistakes of some that of late years had taken upon them to give
directions for the mortification of sin, who, being unacquainted with the
mystery of the gospel and the efficacy of the death of Christ, have anew imposed
the yoke of a self-wrought-out mortification on the necks of their disciples,
which neither they nor their forefathers were ever able to bear.”<note place="foot" n="85" id="iv-p66.2"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p67">Preface.</p></note> 
We have no means of knowing what were the treatises to which Owen here
refers; but it is well known that Baxter’s mind at an early period received an
injurious legal bias from a work of this kind; nor is even Jeremy Taylor’s
“Holy Living” free from the fault of minute prescription of external rules and
“bodily exercise, which profiteth little,” instead of bringing the mind into
immediate contact with those great truths which inspire and transform whatever
they touch.  Nor have there been wanting
teachers, in any age of the church, who</p>
<verse id="iv-p67.1">
<l id="iv-p67.2"> “—
do but skin and film the ulcerous place,</l>
<l id="iv-p67.3">While rank corruption, mining all
within,</l>
<l id="iv-p67.4">Infects unseen.”</l>
</verse>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p68">Owen’s
work is a noble illustration of the Gospel method of sanctification, as we
believe it to be a living reflection of his own experience.  In his polemical works he was like the
lecturer on the <span lang="LA" id="iv-p68.1">materia
medica</span>; but here he is the skilful
physician, applying the medicine to the cure of soul-sickness.  And it is interesting to find the ample
evidence which this work affords, that, amid the din of theological controversy,
the engrossing and perplexing activities of a high public station, and the
chilling damps of a university, he was yet living near <pb n="LXV" id="iv-Page_LXV" />God, and, like Jacob amid the
stones of the wilderness, maintaining secret intercourse with the eternal and
invisible.</p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p69">To the
affairs of Oxford we must now return for a little.  In the midst of his multifarious public engagements, and the
toils of a most ponderous authorship, Owen’s thoughts had never been turned
from the university, and his efforts for its improvement, encouraged by the
Protector and his council, as well as by the co-operation of the heads of
colleges, had been rewarded by a surprising prosperity.  Few things, indeed, are more interesting
than to look into the records of Oxford at this period, as they have been
preserved by Anthony Wood and others, and to mark the constellation of great
names among its fellows and students; some of whom were already in the height
of their renown, and others, with a strangely varied destiny awaiting them,
were brightening into a fame which was to shed its lustre on the coming
age.  The presiding mind at this period
was Owen himself, who, from the combined influence of station and character,
obtained from all around him willing deference;<note place="foot" n="86" id="iv-p69.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p70">“He was
reckoned the brightest ornament of the university in his time.” — Dr Calamy.</p></note> while associated with him in close
friendship, in frequent conference, and learned research, which was gradually
embodied in many folios, was Thomas Goodwin, the president of Magdalen
College.  Stephen Charnock had already
carried many honours, and given token of that Saxon vigour of intellect and
ripe devotion which were afterwards to take shape in his noble treatise on the
“Divine Attributes.”  Dr Pocock sat in
the chair of Arabic, unrivalled as an Orientalist; and Dr Seth Ward taught
mathematics, already noted as an astronomer, and hereafter to be less
honourably noted as so supple a timeserver, that, “amid all the changes of the
times he never broke his bones.”  Robert
Boyle had fled hither, seeking in its tranquil shades opportunity for undisturbed
philosophic studies, and finding in all nature food for prayer; and one more
tall and stately than the rest might be seen now amid the shady walks of
Magdalen College, musing on the “Blessedness of the Righteous,” and now in the
recesses of its libraries, “unsphering the spirit of Plato,” and amassing that
learning and excogitating that divine philosophy which were soon to be
transfigured and immortalized in his “Living Temple.”  Daniel Whitby, the acute annotator on the New Testament, and the
ablest champion of Arminianism — now adorned the roll of Oxford; Christopher
Wren, whose architectural genius has reared its own monument in the greatest of
England’s cathedrals; William Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania, and the
father of the gentlest and most benignant of all our Christian sects; John
Locke, the founder of the greatest school of English metaphysics, to whom was
to belong the high honour of basing toleration <pb n="LXVI" id="iv-Page_LXVI" />on the principles of philosophy;
William South, the pulpit satirist, whom we alternately admire for his brawny
intellect and matchless style, and despise for their prostration to the lowest
purposes of party; Thomas Ken, the future bishop of Bath and Wells, whose
holiness drew forth the willing homage of the Puritans, and whose
conscientiousness as a nonjuror was long after to be proved by his sufferings
in the Tower; Philip Henry, now passing to the little conference of praying
students, and now receiving from Dr Owen praises which only make him humbler,
already delighting in those happy alliterations and fine conceits which were to
be gathered from his lips by his admiring son, and embalmed in the transparent
amber of that son’s immortal Commentary; and Joseph Alleine, who, in his
“Alarm to the Unconverted,” was to produce a work which the church of God will
not willingly let die, and was to display the spirit of a martyr amid the
approaching cruelties of the Restoration, and the deserted hearths and silent
churches of St. Bartholomew’s Day.<note place="foot" n="87" id="iv-p70.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p71">Wood’s
Fasti, part ii., pp. 169–197.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p72">But
events were beginning to transpire in the political world which were to bring
Owen’s tenure of the vice-chancellorship to a speedy close.  He had hitherto befriended Cromwell in all
his great measures, with the strong conviction that the liberties and general
interests of the nation were bound up with his supremacy.  He had even, on occasion of the risings of
the Royalists under Colonel Penruddock in the west, busied himself in securing
the attachment of the university, and in raising a troop of horse for the
defence of the county, until one of his Royalist revilers, enraged at his
infectious zeal, described him as “riding up and down like a spiritual Abaddon,
<i>with white powder in his hair and black in his pocket</i>.”<note place="foot" n="88" id="iv-p72.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p73">Orme, p.
120.</p></note> 
But when a majority of the Parliament proposed to bestow upon Cromwell
the crown and title of king, and when the Protector was evidently not averse to
the entreaties of his Parliament, Owen began to suspect the workings of an
ambition which, if not checked, would introduce a new tyranny, and place in
jeopardy those liberties which so much had been done and suffered to
secure.  He therefore joined with
Colonel Desborough, Fleetwood, and the majority of the army, in opposing these
movements, and even drew up the petition which is known to have defeated the
measure, and constrained Cromwell to decline the perilous honour.<note place="foot" n="89" id="iv-p73.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p74">Burnet’s
Own Times, i. 98.  Ludlow’s Memoirs, p.
248.  Neal, iv. 151, 152.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p75">Many
circumstances soon made it evident, that by this bold step Dr Owen had so far
estranged from himself the affection of Cromwell.  Up to this time he had continued to be, of all the ministers of
his times, the most frequently invited to preach on those great occasions <pb n="LXVII" id="iv-Page_LXVII" />of public state which it was usual in those days to grace with a
religious service.  But when, soon after
this occurrence, Cromwell was inaugurated into his office as Protector, at
Westminster Hall, with all the pomp and splendour of a coronation, those who
were accustomed to watch how the winds of political favour blew, observed that
Lockyer and Dr Manton were the divines who officiated at the august ceremonial;
and that Owen was not even there as an invited guest.<note place="foot" n="90" id="iv-p75.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p76">Neal, iv.
157.  Orme, p. 126.</p></note> 
This was significant, and the decisive step soon followed.  On the 3<sup>rd</sup> of July Cromwell
resigned the office of chancellor of the university; on the 18<sup>th</sup> day
of the same month, his son Richard was appointed his successor; and six weeks
afterwards Dr Owen was displaced from the vice-chancellorship, and Dr Conant, a
Presbyterian, and rector of Exeter College, nominated in his stead.<note place="foot" n="91" id="iv-p76.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p77">Neal, iv.
165.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="iv-p78">Few
things in Owen’s public life more became him than the manner in which he
resigned the presidency of Oxford, and yielded up the academic fasces into the
hands of another.  He “knew both how to
abound, and how to be abased.”  There is
no undignified insinuation of ungracious usage; no loud assertion of
indifference, to cover the bitterness of chagrin; no mock humility; but a manly
reference to the service which he was conscious of having rendered to the
university, with a generous appreciation of the excellencies of the friend to
whom the government was now to be transferred. 
In his parting address to the university, after stating the number of
persons that had been matriculated and graduated during his administration, he
continues: “Professors’ salaries, lost for many years, have been recovered and
paid; some offices of respectability have been maintained; the rights and
privileges of the university have been defended against all the efforts of its
enemies; the treasury is tenfold increased; many of every rank in the
university have been promoted to various honours and benefices; new exercises
have been introduced and established; old ones have been duly performed;
reformation of manners has been diligently studied, in spite of the grumbling
of certain profligate brawlers; labours have been numberless; besides
submitting to the most enormous expense, often when brought to the brink of
death on your account, I have hated these limbs, and this feeble body, which
was ready to desert my mind; the reproaches of the vulgar have been
disregarded, the envy of others has been overcome: in these circumstances I
wish you all prosperity, and bid you farewell. 
I congratulate myself on a successor who can relieve me of this burden;
and you on one who is able completely to repair any injury which your affairs
may have suffered through our inattention… 
But as I know not whither the thread of my discourse might lead me, I
here cut it short.  I seek again my old
labours, my usual watchings, my <pb n="LXVIII" id="iv-Page_LXVIII" />interrupted studies.  As for you, gentlemen of the university, may
you be happy, and fare you well.”<note place="foot" n="92" id="iv-p78.1"><p class="footnote" id="iv-p79">Conclusion
of <span lang="LA" id="iv-p79.1">Oratio quinta</span>,
translated by Orme. — Six Latin orations, delivered by Owen at Oxford while he
presided over the university, have been preserved, and used to be printed at
the end of the volume that contained his sermons and tracts.  They will appear in the seventh volume of
the present edition of Owen’s works.</p></note></p>
</div1>

<div1 title="His Retirement and Last Days" shorttitle="" progress="45.32%" prev="iv" next="vi" id="v">
<h1 id="v-p0.1">His Retirement and Last
Days</h1>
<p class="Body" id="v-p1">A wish
has sometimes been expressed, that men who, like Owen, have contributed so
largely to the enriching of our theological literature, could have been spared
the endless avocations of public life, and allowed to devote themselves almost
entirely to authorship.  But the wisdom
of this sentiment is very questionable. 
Experience seems to testify that a certain amount of contact with the
business of practical life is necessary to the highest style of thought and
authorship; and that minds, when left to undisturbed literary leisure, are apt
to degenerate into habits of diseased speculation and sickly
fastidiousness.  Most certainly the
works that have come from men of monastic habits have done little for the
world, compared with the writings of those who have ever been ready to obey the
voice which summoned them away from tranquil studies to breast the storms and
guide the movements of great social conflicts. 
The men who have lived the most earnestly for their own age, have also
lived the most usefully for posterity. 
Owen’s retirement from the vice-chancellorship may indeed be regarded as
a most seasonable relief from the excess of public engagement; but it may be
confidently questioned whether he would have written so much or so well, had
his intellect and heart been, in any great degree, cut off from the stimulus
which the struggles and stern realities of life gave to them.  This is, accordingly, the course through
which we are now rapidly to follow him, — to the end of his days continuing to display
an almost miraculous fertility of authorship, that is only equalled by that of
his illustrious compeer, Richard Baxter; and, at the same time, taking no
second part in the great ecclesiastical movements of that most eventful age.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p2">The next
great public transaction in which we find Dr Owen engaged, was the celebrated
meeting of ministers and delegates from the Independent Churches, for the
purpose of preparing a confession of their faith and order, commonly known by
the name of the Savoy Assembly or Synod. 
The Independents had greatly flourished during <pb n="LXIX" id="v-Page_LXIX" />the Protectorate; and many
circumstances rendered such a meeting desirable.  The Presbyterian members of the Westminster Assembly had often
pressed on them the importance of such a public and formal exposition of their
sentiments.  Their Independent brethren
in New England had set them the example ten years before; and the frequent
misrepresentations to which they were exposed, especially through their being confounded
with extravagant sectaries who sheltered themselves beneath the common name of
Independents, as well as the religious benefits that were likely to accrue from
mutual conference and comparison of views, appeared strongly to recommend such
a measure.  “We confess,” say they,
“that from the very first, all, or at least the generality of our churches,
have been in a manner like so many ships, though holding forth the same general
colours, launched singly, and sailing apart and alone on the vast ocean of
these tumultuous times, and exposed to every wind of doctrine, under no other
conduct than that of the Word and Spirit, and their particular elders and
principal brethren, without association among themselves, or so much as holding
out common lights to others, whereby to know where they were.”<note place="foot" n="93" id="v-p2.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p3">Confess.
Pref., p. 6.  Neal, iv. 173.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p4">It was
with considerable reluctance, however, that Cromwell yielded his sanction to
the calling of such a meeting.  He
remembered the anxious jealousy with which the proceedings of the Westminster
Assembly had been watched, and probably had his own fears that what now began
in theological discussion might end in the perilous canvassing of public
measures.  But his scruples were at
length overcome, — circulars were issued, inviting the churches to send up
their pastors and delegates, and more than two hundred brethren appeared in
answer to the summons.  They met in a
building in the Strand, which was now commonly devoted to the accommodation of
the officers of Cromwell’s court, but which had formerly been a convent and a
hospital, and originally the palace of the Duke of Savoy, from whom it took its
name.  A committee, in which Owen and
Goodwin evidently bore the burden of the duties, prepared a statement of
doctrine each morning, which was laid before the Assembly, discussed, and
approved.  They found, to their delight,
that “though they had been launched singly, they had all been steering their
course by the same chart, and been bound for one and the same port; and that
upon the general search now made, the same holy and blessed truths of all sorts
which are current and warrantable among the other churches of Christ in the
world, had been their lading.”<note place="foot" n="94" id="v-p4.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p5">Ibid.</p></note> 
It is an interesting fact, that, with the exception of its statements on
church order, the articles of the Savoy Confession bear a close resemblance to
those of the famous Confession of the Westminster divines, — in most places <pb n="LXX" id="v-Page_LXX" />retaining its very words. 
This was a high and graceful tribute to the excellence of that noble
commend.  And though Baxter, irritated
by the form of some of its statements,<note place="foot" n="95" id="v-p5.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p6">Baxter’s
Catholic Communion Defended, and Life, p. 104.</p></note> wrote severely against the Savoy
Assembly, yet a spirit of extraordinary devotion appears to have animated and
sustained its conferences.  “There was
the most eminent presence of the Lord,” says an eyewitness, “with those who
were then assembled, that ever I knew since I had a being.”<note place="foot" n="96" id="v-p6.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p7">Letter from
Rev. J. Forbes of Gloucester.  Asty, p.
xxi.</p></note> 
And, as the natural consequence of this piety, there was an enlarged
charity towards other churches “holding the Head.”  In the preface to the Confession, which Owen is understood to
have written, and from which we have already made some beautiful extracts, this
blessed temper shines forth in language that seems to have anticipated the
standing-point to which the living churches of our own times are so hopefully
pointing.  We are reminded in one place
that “the differences between Presbyterians and Independents are differences
between <i>fellow-servants</i>;” and in another place, the principle is avowed,
that “churches consisting of persons sound in the faith and of good
conversation, ought not to refuse communion with each other, though they walk
not in all things according to the same rule of church order.”<note place="foot" n="97" id="v-p7.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p8">Of the
Institution of Churches, and the Order Appointed in them by Jesus Christ.</p></note> 
It is well known that the Savoy Confession has never come into general
use among the Independents; but there is reason to think that its first
publication had the best effects; and in all likelihood the happy state of
things which Philip Henry describes as distinguishing this period is referable,
in part at least, to the assurance of essential unity which the Savoy
Confession afforded.  “There was a great
change,” says he, “in the tempers of good people throughout the nation, and a
mighty tendency to peace and unity, as if they were by consent weary of their
long clashings.”<note place="foot" n="98" id="v-p8.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p9">Neal, iv.
178.  One of the few letters of Dr Owen
that have been preserved has reference to this Confession.  A French minister of some eminence, the Rev.
Peter du Moulin, wished to attempt a French translation of so valuable a
document; but before doing so, he ventured some animadversions on certain of
its sentiments and expressions.  Owen’s
reply betrays some irritation, especially at Moulin’s misunderstanding and consequent
misrepresentation of the passages commented on.  See Appendix.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p10">What
would have been the effects of these proceedings upon the policy of the
Protector, had his life been prolonged, we can now only surmise.  Ere the Savoy Assembly had commenced its
deliberations, Oliver Cromwell was struggling with a mortal distemper in the
palace of Whitewall.  The death of his
favourite daughter, Lady Claypole, as well as the cares of his government, had
told at length upon his iron frame; and on September 3, 1658, the night of the
most awful <pb n="LXXI" id="v-Page_LXXI" />storm that had ever shaken the
island, and the anniversary of some of his greatest battles, Oliver Cromwell
passed into the eternal world.  It is no
duty of ours to describe the character of this wonderful man; but our
references to Owen have necessarily brought us into frequent contact with his
history; and we have not sought to conceal our conviction of his religious
sincerity and our admiration of his greatness. 
Exaggerate his faults as men may, the hypocritical theory of his
character, so long the stereotyped representation of history, cannot be
maintained.  Those who refuse him all
credit for religion must explain to us how his hypocrisy escaped the detection
of the most religious men of his times, who, like Owen, had the best
opportunities of observing him.  Those
who accuse him of despotism must tell us how it was that England, under his
sway, enjoyed more liberty than it had ever done before.<note place="foot" n="99" id="v-p10.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p11">Bishop
Kennet has long since given the true statement of the case in reference to the
ordinances against Episcopal worship during Cromwell’s government.  “It is certain,” says he, “that the
Protector was for liberty and the utmost latitude to all parties, so far as
consisted with the peace and safety of his person and government; and even the
prejudice he had against the Episcopal party was more for their being Royalists
than for their being of the good old church.” — Neal, iv. 125.  In point of fact, the ordinances were not
put in execution except against such clergymen as had become political
offenders. — Parr’s Life of Usher, p. 75. 
Vaughan’s Stuart Dynasty, i. 246.</p></note> 
Those who see in his character no qualities of generous patriotism, and
few even of enlarged statesmanship, must reconcile this with the fact of his
developing the internal resources of England to an extent which had never been
approached by any previous ruler, — raising his country to the rank of a first
power in Europe, until his very name became a terror to despots, and a shield
to those who, like the bleeding Vaudois in the valleys of Piedmont, appealed to
his compassion.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p12">Owen,
and other leading men among the Puritans, have been represented, by writers
such as Burnet, as offering up the most fanatical prayers for the Protector’s
recovery; and after his death, on occasion of a fast, in the presence of
Richard and the other members of his family, as almost irreverently reproaching
God for his removal.  It would be too
much to affirm, that nothing extravagant or extreme was spoken, even by
eminently good men, at a crisis so exciting; but there is every reason to think
that Owen was not present at the deathbed of the Protector at all; and Burnet’s
statement,<note place="foot" n="100" id="v-p12.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p13">Burnet’s Own Times, i. 116, 117.  No
fanatical words are directly charged upon Owen by any of is accusers, but his
extravagance is freely surmised. — Biog. Dict., x. 103.  Goodwin is represented as complaining in
these words, “Lord, thou hast deceived us, and we were deceived;” — words which
Burnet characterizes as impudent and enthusiastic boldness; but which, if used
at all, were evidently accommodated from <scripRef passage="Jer. xx. 7" id="v-p13.1" parsed="|Jer|20|7|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Jer.20.7">Jer. xx. 7</scripRef>,
and used in the sense in which the prophet himself had used them; <i>q.d.,</i>
“Lord, thou hast permitted us to deceive ourselves.”  This may probably be taken as a specimen of the looseness of the
other charges.</p></note> when traced to its source, is
found to have originated in an impression of Tillotson’s, <pb n="LXXII" id="v-Page_LXXII" />who was as probably mistaken as otherwise.  Vague gossip must not be received as the
material of biography.  At the same
time, it cannot be doubted that the death of Cromwell filled Owen and his
friends with profound regret and serious apprehension.  His life and power had been the grand
security for their religious liberties; and now by his death that security was
dissolved.  Cromwell during his lifetime
had often predicted, “They will bring all to confusion again;” and now that his
presiding hand was removed, the lapse of a little time was sufficient to show
that he had too justly forecast the future. 
Ere we glance, however, at the rapid changes of those coming years, we
must once more turn to Owen’s labours as an author.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p14">In 1657
he published one of his best devotional treatises, — “Of Communion with God the
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, each Person distinctly, in Love, Grace,
Consolation, etc.”  It forms the
substance of a series of sermons preached by him at Oxford during his
vice-chancellorship, and is another evidence of his “close walk with God”
during the excitements and engagements of that high official position.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p15">There
is, no doubt, some truth in the remark, that he carries out the idea of
distinct communion between the believer and each of the persons of the Godhead
to an extent for which there is no scriptural precedent; and this arises from
another habit, observable in some degree even in this devotional composition, —
that of making the particular subject on which he treats the centre around
which he gathers all the great truths of the Gospel; but, when these deductions
have been made, what a rich treasure is this work of Owen’s!  He leads us by green pastures and still
waters, and lays open the exhaustless springs of the Christian’s hidden life
with Christ in God.  It is easy to
understand how some parts of it should have been unintelligible, and should
even have appeared incoherent to persons whose creed was nothing more than an
outward badge; and therefore we are not surprised that it should have provoked
the scoffing remarks of a Rational ecclesiastic twenty years afterwards;<note place="foot" n="101" id="v-p15.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p16">Dr Sherlock, in a treatise entitled, “Discourse concerning the Knowledge of
Jesus Christ, and our Union and Communion with Him,” etc., 1674.  To which Owen replied in “A Vindication of
some Passages concerning Communion with God, from the Exceptions of Willian
Sherlock, Rector of St George’s, Buttolph Lane.”  The controversy drew a considerable number of other combatants
into the field, and appears to have been protracted through a series of years.
— Wood’s Athen. Oxon., iv. 105, 106.</p></note> but to one who possesses even a
faint measure of spiritual life, we know few exercises more congenial or
salutary than its perusal.  It is like
passing from the dusty and beaten path into a garden full of the most fragrant
flowers, from which you return still bearing about your person some parts of
its odours, that reveal where you have been. 
And those who read the book with somewhat of this spiritual
susceptibility, will sympathize with the <pb n="LXXIII" id="v-Page_LXXIII" />glowing words of Daniel Burgess
regarding it: “Alphonsus, king of Spain, is said to have found food and physic
in reading Livy; and Ferdinand, king of Sicily, in reading Quintus Curtius; —
but you have here nobler entertainment, vastly richer dainties, incomparably
more sovereign medicines: I had almost said, the very highest of angel’s food
is here set before you; and, as Pliny speaks, ‘<span lang="LA" id="v-p16.1">Permista
deliciis auxilia</span>,’ — things that minister unto
grace and comfort, to holy life and liveliness”<note place="foot" n="102" id="v-p16.2"><p class="footnote" id="v-p17">Preface to the reader.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p18">In the
same year Owen was engaged in an important and protracted controversy on the
subject of schism, which drew forth from him a succession of publications, and
exposed him to the assaults of many adversaries.  Foster has sarcastically remarked on the great convenience of
having a number of words that will answer the purposes of ridicule or
reprobation, without having any precise meaning attached to them;<note place="foot" n="103" id="v-p18.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p19">Essay on the application of the epithet Romantic.</p></note> and the use that has commonly been
made of the obnoxious term, “Schism,” is an illustration in point.  Dominant religious parties have ever been
ready to hurl this hideous weapon at those who have separated from them, from
whatever cause; and the phrase has derived its chief power to injure from its
vagueness.  The Church of Rome has flung
it at the Churches of the Reformation, and the Reformed Churches that stand at
different degrees of distance from Rome, have been too ready to cast it at each
other.  Owen and his friends, now began
to feel the injurious effects of this, in the frequent application of the term
to themselves; and he was induced, in consequence, to write on the subject,
with the view especially of distinguishing between the scriptural and the
ecclesiastical use of the term, and, by simply defining it, to deprive it of
its mischievous power.  This led to his
treatise, “Of Schism; the true nature of it discovered, and considered with
reference to the present differences in region:” in which he shows that schism,
as described in Scripture, consists in “causeless differences and contentions
amongst the members of a particular church, contrary to that love, prudence,
and forbearance, which are required of them to be exercised among themselves,
and towards one another.”<note place="foot" n="104" id="v-p19.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p20">Owen’s Works, xix. 132, 133, Russell’s edition.</p></note> 
From this two consequences followed; — that separation from any church
was not in its own nature schism; and that those churches which, by their corruption
or tyranny, rendered separation necessary, were the true schismatics: so that,
as Vincent Alsop wittily remarked, “He that undertakes to play this great gun,
had need to be very careful and spunge it well, lest it fire at home.”<note place="foot" n="105" id="v-p20.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p21">Melius Inquirend., p. 209.  Orme, p.
199.  Wood’s description of Alsop makes
one suspect that he had smarted from his wit: “A Nonconforming minister, who,
since the death of their famous A. Marvell, hath been quibbler and punner in
ordinary to the Dissenting party, though he comes much short of that person.” —
Athen. Oxon., iv, 106.</p></note> 
It is one of Dr Owen’s best controversial treatises, being <pb n="LXXIV" id="v-Page_LXXIV" />exhaustive, and yet not marked by that discursiveness which is the
fault of some of his writings, and bringing into play some of his greatest
excellencies as a writer, — his remarkable exegetical talent, his intimate
knowledge of Scripture, and mastery of the stores of ecclesiastical
history.  Dr Hammond replied to him from
among the Episcopalians, and Cawdrey from among the Presbyterians, — a stormy
petrel, with whose spirit, Owen remarks, the Presbyterians in general had no
sympathy; but Owen remained unquestionable master of the field.<note place="foot" n="106" id="v-p21.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p22">The other writings drawn from Owen in this controversy were provoked by
Cawdrey. — 1. A Review of the True Nature of Schism, with a Vindication of the
Congregational Churches in England from the imputation thereof, unjustly
charged on them by Mr Daniel Cawdrey, 1657. 
2. An Answer to a late Treatise of Mr Cawdrey about the Nature of
Schism, 1658, prefixed to a Defence of Mr John Cotton, &amp;c., against
Cawdrey, written by himself, and edited by Owen.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p23">It was
not thus with the controversy which we have next to describe.  Owen had prepared a valuable little essay, —
“Of the Divine Original, Authority, Self-evidencing Light and Power of the
Scriptures; with an answer to that inquiry, How we know the Scriptures to be
the word of God?” the principal design of which, as its title so far indicates,
was to prove that, independently altogether of its external evidence, the Bible
contains, in the nature of its truths and in their efficacy on the mind,
satisfactory evidence of the divine source from which it has emanated; — an
argument which was afterwards nobly handled by Halyburton, and which has
recently been illustrated and illuminated by Dr Chalmers with his
characteristic eloquence, in one of the chapters of his “Theological
Institutes.”<note place="foot" n="107" id="v-p23.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p24">Theological Institutes, x. b. iii. ch. 6.</p></note> 
In this essay he had laid down the position, that “as the Scriptures of
the Old and New Testament were immediately and entirely given out by God
himself, — his mind being in them represented to us without the least
interveniency of such mediums and ways as were capable of giving change or
alteration to the least iota or syllable, — so, by his good and merciful
providential dispensation, in his love to his Word and church, his Word as
first given out by him is preserved unto us entire in the original languages.”<note place="foot" n="108" id="v-p24.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p25">P. 153, duod. ed.</p></note> 
It happened that while this essay was in the press, the Prolegomena and
Appendix of Walton’s invaluable and immortal work, the “London Polyglott,” came
into Owen’s hands.  But when he glanced
at the formidable array of various readings, which was presented by Walton and
his coadjutors as the result of their collation of manuscripts and versions, he
became alarmed for his principles, imagined the authority of the Scriptures to
be placed in imminent jeopardy, and, in an essay which he entitled, “A
Vindication of the Purity and Integrity of the Hebrew and <pb n="LXXV" id="v-Page_LXXV" />Greek Texts of the Old and New Testaments, in some considerations
on the Prolegomena and Appendix to the late <span lang="LA" id="v-p25.1">Biblia
Polyglotta</span>,”<note place="foot" n="109" id="v-p25.2"><p class="footnote" id="v-p26">Owen published a third tract in this little volume, “<span lang="LA" id="v-p26.1">Exercitations adversus Fanaticos</span>,”
in which he handled the Quakers with some severity.</p></note> rashly endeavoured to prove that
Walton had greatly exaggerated the number of various readings, and insinuated
his apprehension, that if Walton’s principles were admitted, they would lead,
by a very direct course, to Popery or Infidelity.  It is needless to say how undeniable is the fact of various
readings; how utterly groundless were the fears which Dr Owen expressed because
of them; and how much the labours of learned biblicists, in the region which
was so nobly cultivated by Walton and his associates, have confirmed, instead
of disturbing our confidence in the inspired canon.<note place="foot" n="110" id="v-p26.2"><p class="footnote" id="v-p27">Marsh’s Michaelis, i. ch. vi.  Taylor’s
History of the Transmission of Ancient Books; appendix.</p></note> 
And yet it is not difficult to understand how the same individual, who
was unsurpassed, perhaps unequalled, in his own age in his knowledge of the
subject-matter of revelation, should have been comparatively uninformed on
questions which related to the integrity of the sacred text itself.  The error of Owen consisted in making broad
assertions on a subject on which he acknowledged himself to be, after all, but
imperfectly informed; and, from a mere <i>a priori</i> ground, challenging
facts that were sustained by very abundant evidence, and charging those facts
with the most revolting consequences. 
Let those theologians be warned by it, who, on the ground of
preconceived notions and incorrect interpretations of Scripture, have called in
question some of the plainest discoveries of science; and be assured that
truth, come from what quarter it may, can never place the Word of God in
jeopardy.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p28">Walton
saw that he had the advantage of Owen, and in “The Considerator Considered, and
the <span lang="LA" id="v-p28.1">Biblia Polyglotta</span> Vindicated,” successfully defended his position, and did what he
could to hold Owen up to the ridicule of the learned world.  Though he was Owen’s victor in this
controversy, yet the arrogance of his bearing excites the suspicion that
something more than learned zeal bore him into the contest, and that the
exasperated feelings of the ecclesiastic made him not unwilling to humble this
leader and champion of the Puritans in the dust.  The respective merits of the two combatants in this contest,
which excited so much commotion in the age in which it occurred, are admirably
remarked on by Dr Chalmers: “The most interesting collision upon this question
that I know of, between unlike men of unlike minds, was that between the most
learned of our Churchmen on the one hand, Brian Walton, author, or rather
editor of the ‘London Polyglott,’ and the most talented and zealous of our
sectarians on the other, Dr John Owen. 
The latter adventured himself <pb n="LXXVI" id="v-Page_LXXVI" />most rashly into a combat, and
under a false alarm for the results of the erudition of the former; and the
former retorted contemptuously upon his antagonist, as he would upon a mystic
or enthusiastic devotee.  The
amalgamation of the two properties thus arrayed in hostile conflict, would have
just made up a perfect theologian.  It
would have been the wisdom of the letter in alliance with the wisdom of the spirit;
instead of which I know not what was most revolting, — the lordly insolence of
the prelate, or the outrageous violence of the Puritan.  In the first place, it was illiterate in
Owen, to apprehend that the integrity of the Scripture would be unsettled by
the exposure, in all their magnitude and multitude, of its various readings;
but in the second place, we stand in doubt of Walton’s spirit and his
seriousness, when he groups and characterizes as the new-light men and ranting
enthusiasts of these days, those sectaries, many of whom, though far behind him
in the lore of theology as consisting in the knowledge of its vocables, were as
far before him in acquaintance with the subject-matter of theology, as
consisting of its doctrines, and of their application to the wants and the
principles of our moral nature.”<note place="foot" n="111" id="v-p28.2"><p class="footnote" id="v-p29">Institutes of Theology, i. 287 — On Scripture Criticism.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p30">About
the time of his emerging from this unfortunate controversy, Owen gave to the
world his work on Temptation, — another of those masterly treatises in which he
“brings the doctrines of theology to bear on the wants and principles of our
moral nature,” and from which whole paragraphs flash upon the mind of the
reader with an influence that makes him feel as if they had been written for
himself alone.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p31">In his
preface to that work, Owen (no doubt reflecting his impressions of public
events) speaks of “providential dispensations, in reference to the public
concernments of these nations, as perplexed and entangled, — the footsteps of
God lying in the deep, where his paths are not known.”  And certainly the rapid and turbulent
succession of changes that took place soon after the removal of Cromwell’s
presiding genius from the helm, might well fill him with deepening anxiety and
alarm.  These changes it is not our province
minutely to trace.  Richard’s feeble
hand, as is well known, proved itself unfit to control the opposing elements of
the state; and a few months saw him return not unwillingly, to the unambitious
walks of private life.<note place="foot" n="112" id="v-p31.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p32">Owen’s sermon, “A Gospel Profession, the Glory of a Nation,” <scripRef passage="Isa. iv. 5" id="v-p32.1" parsed="|Isa|4|5|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Isa.4.5">Isa. iv. 5</scripRef>,
was preached before Richard’s Parliament. 
Soon after, he preached before the Long Parliament; and this was the
last occasion in which he was invited to officiate before such an
assemblage.  This sermon has not been
preserved.</p></note> 
Owen has been charged with talking part in the schemes which drove Richard
from the Protectorate; but the charge proceeded upon a mere impression of Dr
Manton’s, produced from hearing the fragment of a conversation, and was
repeatedly and indignantly denied by Owen during his <pb n="LXXVII" id="v-Page_LXXVII" />life.<note place="foot" n="113" id="v-p32.2"><p class="footnote" id="v-p33">Dr Manton declared, that at Wallingford House he heard Dr Owen say with
vehemence, “He must come down, and he shall come down;” and this was understood
to refer to Richard; — but it is material to notice that Dr Manton did not so
understand it till after the event. — Palmer’s note to Calamy’s Life of Owen.
Noncon. Mem., i. 201.  Add to this Owen’s
solemn denial of the charge, Vindic. of Animadversions on <span lang="LA" id="v-p33.1">Fiat Lux</span>,
p. 127; and the testimony of a “worthy minister,” preserved by Asty, that Dr
Owen was against the pulling down of Richard, and this his dissatisfaction at what
they were doing at Wallingford House was such as to drive his into illness. —
Asty, p. xix.</p></note> 
Then followed the recalling of that remnant of the Long Parliament which
had been dispersed by Cromwell, — a measure which Owen advised, as, on the
whole, the most likely to secure the continuance of an unrestricted
liberty.  But the Parliament, unwilling
to obey the dictation of a dominant party in the Army, was once more dispersed
by force, while the army itself began to be divided into ambitious
factions.  A new danger threatened from
the north.  General Monk, marking the
state of things in England, and especially the divided condition of the army,
was making preparations to enter England. 
What were his designs?  At one
period he had befriended the Independents, but latterly he had sided with the
powerful body of the Presbyterians. 
Would he now, then, endeavour to set up a new Protectorate, favouring
the Presbyterians and oppressing other sects or would he throw his sword into
the scale of the Royalists, and bring back the Stuarts?  A deputation of Independent ministers,
consisting of Caryl and others, was sent into Scotland, bearing a letter to
Monk that had been written by Owen, representing to him the injustice of his
entering England, and the danger to which it would expose their most precious
liberties.  But the deputies returned,
unable to influence his movements, or even to penetrate his ultimate
designs.  Owen and his friends next
endeavoured to arouse the army to a vigorous resistance of Monk, and even
offered to raise £100,000 among the Independents for their assistance; — but
they found the army divided and dispirited; and Monk, gradually approaching
London, entered it at length, not only unresisted, but welcomed by thousands,
the Long Parliament having again found courage to resume its sittings.  In a short while the Long Parliament was finally
dissolved by its own content, and soon after the Convention Parliament
assembled.  Monk at length threw off his
hitherto impenetrable disguise, and ventured to introduce letters from Charles
Stuart.  It was voted, at his
instigation, that the ancient constitution of King, Lords, and Commons, should
be restored, and Charles invited back to the throne of his ancestors; and the
great majority of the nation, weary of the years of faction and turbulence,
hailed the change with joy.  But in the
enthusiasm of the moment, no means were taken to secure an adjustment of those
vital questions which had been agitated between the people and the crown.  The act, therefore, which restored the king,
<pb n="LXXVIII" id="v-Page_LXXVIII" />restored the laws, both civil and
ecclesiastical, to the state in which they had been at the commencement of the
war, re-established the hierarchy, and constituted all classes of separatists a
proscribed class; and Owen and his party had little to trust to for the
continuance of their religious liberties but the promise of Charles at Breda,
that he “would have a respect to tender consciences.”<note place="foot" n="114" id="v-p33.2"><p class="footnote" id="v-p34">Neal, iv. 191–220.  Vaughan’s Stuart
Dynasty, ii. 266–271.</p></note> 
A little time sufficed to show that the king’s word was but a miserable
security; and the beautiful words of Baxter now began to be fulfilled in their
darkest part: “Ordinarily, God would have vicissitudes of summer and winter,
day and night, that the church may grow externally in the summer of prosperity,
and internally and radically in the winter of adversity; yet usually their
night is longer than their day, and that day itself has its storms and
tempests.”  The night was now coming to
the Puritans.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p35">A few
months before the restoration of Charles, Owen had been displaced from the
deanery of Christ Church, and thus his last official connection with Oxford
severed.  He now retired to his native
village of Stadham in the neighbourhood, where he had become the proprietor of
a small estate.  During his
vice-chancellorship, it had been his custom to preach in this place on the
afternoons of those Sabbaths in which he was not employed at St.  Mary’s; and a little congregation which he
had gathered by this means now joyfully welcomed him among them as their
pastor.  It was probably while at
Stadham that he finished the preparation of one of his most elaborate
theological works, whose title will supply a pretty accurate idea at once of
its general plan and of its remarkable variety of matter, — “<span lang="EL" class="Greek" id="v-p35.1">Theologoumena</span>, etc.; or, six books on the nature, rise, progress, and study of
true theology.  In which, also, the
origin and growth of true and false religious worship, and the more remarkable
declensions and restorations of the church are traced from their first
sources.  To which are added digressions
concerning universal grace, — the origin of the sciences, — notes of the Roman
Church, — the origin of letters, — the ancient Hebrew letters, — Hebrew
punctuation, — versions of the Scriptures, — Jewish rites,” etc.  It is matter of regret that the “<span lang="EL" class="Greek" id="v-p35.2">Theologoumena</span>” has hitherto been locked up in the Latin tongue; for though
parts have been superseded by more recent works, there is no book in the
English language that occupies the wide field over which Owen travels with his
usual power, and scatters around him his learned stores.<note place="foot" n="115" id="v-p35.3"><p class="footnote" id="v-p36">A portion of the “<span lang="EL" class="Greek" id="v-p36.1">Theologoumena</span>”
was translated and published by the Rev. J. Craig of Avonbridge in Scotland;
but the encouragement was not such as to induce him to persevere.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p37">In all
likelihood Owen hoped that he would be permitted to remain unmolested in his
quiet village, and that his very obscurity <pb n="LXXIX" id="v-Page_LXXIX" />would prove his protection; but he
had miscalculated the leniency of the new rulers.  An act passed against the Quakers, declared it illegal for more
than five persons to assemble in any unauthorized place for religious worship;
and this act admitting of application to all separatists, soon led to the
expulsion of Owen from his charge, and to the dispersion of his little flock.<note place="foot" n="116" id="v-p37.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p38">Wood’s Athen. Oxon., iv. 100.</p></note> 
In a little while he saw himself surrounded by many companions in
tribulation.  The Presbyterians, who had
shown such eagerness for the restoration of Charles to his throne, naturally
expected that such measures would be taken as would comprehend them within the
establishment, without doing violence to their conscientious difficulties; and
Charles and his ministers flattered the hope so long as they thought it unsafe
to despise it; but it was not long ere the Act of Uniformity drove nearly two
thousand of them from their churches into persecution and poverty, and brought
once more into closer fellowship with Owen those excellent men whom he had
continued to love and esteem in the midst of all their mutual differences.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p39">Sir
Edward Hyde, the future Lord Clarendon, was now lord chancellor, and the most
influential member of the government, and means were used to obtain an
interview between Owen and him, with the view, it is probable, of inducing him
to relax the growing severity of his measures against the Nonconformists.  But the proud minister was inexorable.  He insisted that Owen should abstain from
preaching; but at the one time, not ignorant of the great talents of the
Puritan, strongly urged him to employ his pen at the present juncture in
writing against Popery.  Owen did not
comply with the first part of the injunction, but continued to preach in London
and elsewhere, to little secret assemblies, and even at times more publicly,
when the vigilance of informers was relaxed, or the winds of persecution blew
for a little moment less fiercely.  But
circumstances soon put it in his power to comply with the latter part of it;
and those circumstances are interesting, both as illustrative of the character
of Owen and of the spirit and tendencies of the times.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p40">John
Vincent Cane, a Franciscan friar, had published a book entitled, “<span lang="LA" id="v-p40.1">Fiat Lux</span>; or, a Guide in Differences of
Religion betwixt Papist and Protestant, Presbyterian and Independent;” in
which, under the guise of recommending moderation and charity, he invites men
over to the Church of Rome, as the only infallible remedy for all church
divisions.  The work falling in to some
extent with the current of feeling in certain quarters, had already gone
through two impressions ere it reached the hands of Owen, and is believed to
have been sent to him at length by Clarendon. 
Struck with the subtle and pernicious character of the work, whose
author he describes <pb n="LXXX" id="v-Page_LXXX" />as “a Naphtali speaking goodly
words, but while his voice was Jacob’s voice, his hands were the hands of
Esau,” Owen set himself to answer it, and soon produced his “Animadversions on <span lang="LA" id="v-p40.2">Fiat Lux</span>, by a Protestant;” which so
completely exposed its sophistries and hidden aims, as to make the disconcerted
friar lose his temper.  The friar
replied in a “Vindication of <span lang="LA" id="v-p40.3">Fiat
Lux</span>,” — in which he betrayed a
vindictive wish to detect his opponent, and bring upon him the resentment of
those in power; describing him as “a part of that dismal tempest which had
borne all before it, — not only church and state, but reason, right, honesty,
and all true religion.”<note place="foot" n="117" id="v-p40.4"><p class="footnote" id="v-p41">Vindic. of Animad. on <span lang="LA" id="v-p41.1">Fiat
Lux</span>, p. 10.</p></note> 
To which Owen rejoined, now manfully giving his name, and, according to
his custom, not satisfied with answering his immediate opponent, entered
largely into the whole Popish controversy.  Few things are more remarkable in Owen than the readiness with
which he could thus summon to his use the vast stores of his accumulated
learning.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p42">But,
even after this good service had been done to the common cause of
Protestantism, there seemed a danger that this second work would not be
permitted to be published; and it is curious to notice the nature of the
objections, and the quarter whence they came. 
The power of licensing books in divinity was now in the hands of the
bishops; and they were found to have two weighty objections to Owen’s
treatise.  First, That in speaking of
the evangelists and apostles, and even of Peter, he withheld from them the
title of “saint;” and, secondly, That he had questioned whether it could be
proved that Peter had ever been at Rome. 
Owen’s treatment of these objections was every way worthy of
himself.  In reference to the former, he
reminded his censors that the titles of evangelist and apostle were superior to
that of saint, inasmuch as this belonged to all the people of God; at the same
time, he expressed his willingness to yield this point.  But the second he could only yield on one
condition, — namely, that they would prove that he had been mistaken.  Owen’s book at length found its way to the
press; not, however, through the concessions of the bishops, but through the
command of Sir Edward Nicolas, one of the principal secretaries of state, who
interposed to overrule their scruples.<note place="foot" n="118" id="v-p42.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p43">Asty, pp. xxiii., xxiv.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p44">Dr
Owen’s reputation was greatly extended by these writings; and this led to a new
interview with Clarendon.  His lordship
acknowledged that he had done more for the cause of Protestantism than any
other man in England; and, expressing his astonishment that so learned a man
should have been led away by “the novelty of Independency,” held out to him the
hope of high preferment in the church if he would conform.  Owen undertook to prove, in answer to any
bishop that he might appoint, that the Independent form of <pb n="LXXXI" id="v-Page_LXXXI" />church order, instead of being a novelty, was the only mode of
government in the church for the first two centuries; and as for his wish to
bestow upon him ecclesiastical honours, what he had to ask for himself and his
brethren was, not preferment within the church, but simple toleration without
it.  The dazzling bait of a mitre appears
to have been set before all the leading Nonconformists; but not one of them
yielded to its lure.<note place="foot" n="119" id="v-p44.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p45">“I am informed,” says the author of the Anonymous Memoir, “by one of the
Doctor’s relations, that King Charles II. offered him a bishopric; but no
worldly honour or advantage could prevail upon the Doctor to change his
principles.” — P. xxii.</p></note> 
This led the chancellor to inquire what was the measure of toleration he
had to ask; — to which Owen is reported to have answered, “Liberty for all who assented
to the doctrine of the Church of England.” 
This answer has been remarked on by some at the expense of his
consistency and courage; and the explanation has been suggested, that he now
asked not all that he wished, but all that there was the most distant hope of
receiving.  It should be remembered,
however, in addition, that many of the most liberal and enlightened men among
the Nonconformists of those days objected to the full toleration of Papists;<note place="foot" n="120" id="v-p45.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p46">Owen’s Discourse of Toleration, <i>passim</i>.</p></note> not, indeed, on religious, but on
political grounds; — both because they were the subjects of a foreign power,
and because of the bearings of the question on the succession of the Duke of
York to the throne; and also, that Owen’s plan would actually have comprehended
in it almost the whole of the Protestant Nonconformists of that age.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p47">A more
honourable way of deliverance from his troubles than conformity was, about the
same time, presented to Dr Owen, in an earnest invitation from the first
Congregational church of Boston, in New England, to become their pastor.  They had “seen his labours, and heard of the
grace and wisdom communicated to him from the Father of lights;” and when so
many candles were not permitted to shine in England, they were eager to secure
such a burning light for their infant colony. 
It does not very clearly appear what sort of answer Owen returned.  One biographer represents him as willing to
go, and as even having some of his property embarked in a vessel bound for New
England, when he was stopped by orders of the court; others represent him as
unwilling to leave behind him the struggling cause, and disposed to wait in
England for happier days.<note place="foot" n="121" id="v-p47.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p48">Anthony Wood is amusingly cynical in his account of this matter: “Upon this our
author resolved to go to New England; but since that time, the wind was never
in a right point for a voyage.” — Wood’s Athen. Oxon., iv. 100.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p49">But
neither the representations of Owen nor of others who were friendly to the
Nonconformists, had any influence in changing the policy of those who were now
in power.  The golden age to which
Clarendon and his associates sought to bring back the government <pb n="LXXXII" id="v-Page_LXXXII" />and the country, was that of Laud, with all the tortures of the
Star Chamber, the dark machinery of the High Commission, and the dread
alternative of abject conformity, or proscription and ruin.  And the licentious Charles, while affecting
at times a greater liberality, joined with his ministers in their worst
measures; either from a secret sympathy with them, or, as is more probable, from
a hope that the ranks of Nonconformity would at length be so greatly swelled as
to render a measure of toleration necessary that would include in it the
Romanist along with the Puritan. 
Pretexts were sought after and eagerly seized upon, in order to increase
the rigours of persecution; and new acts passed, such as the Conventicle Act,
which declared it penal to hold meetings for worship, even in barns and
highways, and offered high rewards to informers, — and whose deliberate
intention was, either to compel the sufferers to conformity, or to goad them on
to violence and crime.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p50">In the
midst of these growing rigours, which were rapidly filling the prisons with
victims, and crowding the emigrant ships with exiles, the plague appeared,
sweeping London as with a whirlwind of death. 
Then it was seen who had been the true spiritual shepherds of the
people, and who had been the strangers and the hirelings.  The clerical oppressors of the Puritans fled
from the presence of the plague, while the proscribed preachers emerged from
their hiding-places, shared the dangers of that dreadful hour, addressed
instruction and consolation to the perishing and bereaved, and stood between
the living and the dead, until the plague was stayed.  One thing, however, had been disclosed by these occurrences; and
this was the undiminished influence of the Nonconformist pastors over their
people, and the increased love of their people to them; nor could the pastors
ever be cut off from the means of temporal support, so long as intercourse
between them and their people was maintained. 
This led to the passing of another act, whose ingenious cruelty
historians have vied with each other adequately to describe.  In the Parliament at Oxford, which had fled
thither in order to escape the ravages of the plague, a law was enacted which
virtually banished all Nonconformist ministers five miles from any city, town,
or borough, that sent members to Parliament, and five miles from any place
whatsoever where they had at any time in a number of years past preached;
unless they would take an oath which it was well-known no Nonconformist could
take, and which the Earl of Southampton even declared, in his place in
Parliament, no honest man could subscribe. 
This was equivalent to driving them into exile in their own land; and,
in addition to the universal severance of the pastors from their people, by
banishing them into remote rural districts, it exposed them not only to the
caprice of those who were the instruments of government, <pb n="LXXXIII" id="v-Page_LXXXIII" />and to all the vile acts of spies and informers, but often to the
insults and the violence of ignorant and licentious mobs.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p51">Dr Owen
suffered in the midst of all these troubles; and one anecdote, which most
probably belongs to this period, presents us with another picture of the
times.  He had gone down to visit his
old friends in the neighbourhood of Oxford, and adopting the usual precautions
of the period, had approached his lodging after nightfall.  But notwithstanding all his privacy, he was
observed, and information given of the place where he lay.  Early in the morning, a company of troopers
came and knocked at the door.  The
mistress coming down, boldly opened the door, and asked them what they would
have.  — “Have you any lodgers in your
house?” they inquired.  Instead of
directly answering their question, she asked “whether they were seeking for Dr
Owen?”  “Yes,” said they; on which she
assured them he had departed that morning at an earlier hour.  The soldiers believing her word, immediately
rode away.  In the meantime the Doctor,
whom the woman really supposed to have been gone, as he intended the night
before, arose, and going into a neighbouring field, whither he ordered his
horse to be brought to him, hastened away by an unfrequented path towards
London.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p52">A second
terrible visitation of Heaven was needed, in order to obtain for the persecuted
Puritans a temporary breathing-time: and this second visitation came.  The fire followed quickly in the footsteps
of the plague, and the hand of intolerance was for the moment paralysed, if,
indeed, its heart did not for a time relent. 
The greater number of the churches were consumed in the dreadful
conflagration.  Large wooden houses
called tabernacles were quickly reared, amid the scorched and blackened ruins;
and in these, the Nonconformist ministers preached to anxious and solemnized
multitudes.  The long silent voices of
Owen, and Manton, and Caryl, and others, awoke the remembrance of other times;
and earnest Baxter</p>
<verse id="v-p52.1">
<l id="v-p52.2">“Preached as though he never should
preach again;</l>
<l id="v-p52.3">And like a dying man to dying men.”</l>
</verse>
<p class="Body" id="v-p53">There
was no possibility of silencing these preachers at such a moment.  And the fall of Clarendon and the disgrace
of Sheldon soon afterwards helped to prolong and enlarge their precarious
liberty.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p54">Many
tracts, for the most part published anonymously, and without even the printer’s
name, had issued from Owen’s pen during these distracting years, having for
their object to represent the impolicy and injustice of persecution for
conscience’ sake.<note place="foot" n="122" id="v-p54.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p55">Of these Mr Orme enumerates the following:— 1. “An Account of the Grounds and
Reasons on which the Protestant Dissenters Desire their Liberty.”  2. “A Letter concerning the Present
Excommunications.”  3. “The Present
Distresses on Nonconformists Examined.” 
4. “Indulgence and Toleration Considered, in a Letter to a Person of
Honour.”  5. “A Peace-offering, in an
Apology and Humble Plea for Liberty of Conscience.” — P. 234.</p></note> 
He had also published <pb n="LXXXIV" id="v-Page_LXXXIV" />“A Brief Instruction in the Worship
of God and Discipline of the Churches of the New Testament, by way of question
and answer,” — a title which sufficiently describes the book;<note place="foot" n="123" id="v-p55.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p56">The publication of this Catechism gave occasion to proposals for union among
the Presbyterians and Independents, addressed by the sanguine Baxter to Dr
Owen, and led to lengthened correspondence and negotiation.  For reasons formerly adverted to, the scheme
proved abortive.  One of Owen’s letters
on this subject has been preserved, and appears in the Appendix.  We are not sure that in every part we could
vindicate the Doctor’s consistency.</p></note> and some years earlier, a well
compacted and admirably reasoned “Discourse concerning Liturgies and their
Imposition,” which illustrates the principle on which, when a student at
Oxford, he had resisted the impositions of Laud, — a principle which reaches to
the very foundation of the argument between the High Churchman and the
Puritan.  And his publications during
the following year show with what untiring assiduity, in the midst of all those
outward storms, he had been plying the work of authorship, and laying up rich
stores for posterity.  Three of Owen’s
best works bear the date of 1668.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p57">First,
there is his treatise “On the Nature, Power, Deceit, and Prevalence of
Indwelling Sin in Believers;” on which Dr Chalmers has well remarked, that
“there is no treatise of its learned and pious author more fitted to be useful
to the Christian disciple; and that it is most important to be instructed on
this subject by one who had reached such lofty attainments in holiness, and
whose profound and experimental acquaintance with the spiritual life so well
fitted him for expounding its nature and operations.”<note place="foot" n="124" id="v-p57.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p58">Introductory Essay to Owen on Indwelling Sin, pp. xviii., xix.</p></note> 
Next came his “Exposition of the 130<sup>th</sup> Psalm,” — a work
which, as we have already hinted, stood intimately connected with the history
of Owen’s own inner life; and which, conducting the reader through the turnings
and windings along many of which he himself had wandered in the season of his
spiritual distresses, shows him the way in which he at length found peace.  When Owen sat down to the exposition of this
psalm, it was not with the mere literary implements of study scattered around
him, or in the spirit with which the mere scholar may be supposed to sit down
to the explanation of an ancient classic; but, when he laid open the book of
God, he laid open at the same time the book of his own heart and of his own history,
and produced a book which, with all its acknowledged prolixity, and even its
occasional obscurity, is rich in golden thoughts, and instinct with the living
experience of “one who spoke what he knew, and testified what he had seen.”</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p59">Then
appeared the first volume of Owen’s greatest work, his “Exposition of the
Epistle to the Hebrews,” — a work which it would be alike superfluous to
describe or to praise.<note place="foot" n="125" id="v-p59.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p60">The second volume was published in 1674; the third in 1680; the forth was
posthumous, but was left fit for the press, and appeared in 1684.</p></note> 
For more than twenty <pb n="LXXXV" id="v-Page_LXXXV" />years his thoughts had been turned
to the preparing of this colossal commentary on the most difficult of all the
Pauline epistles; and at length he had given himself to it with ripened powers,
— with the gathered treasures of an almost universal reading, and with the
richer treasures still of a deep Christian experience.  Not disdainful of the labours of those who
had gone before him, he yet found that the mine had been opened, rather than
exhausted; and, as he himself strongly expressed it, that “sufficient ground
for renewed investigation had been left, not only for the present generation,
but for all them that should succeed, to the consummation of all things.”  The spirit and manner in which he pursued
his work is described by himself, and forms one of the most valuable portions
of autobiography in all Owen’s writings:—</p>
<blockquote id="v-p60.1"><p id="v-p61">“For the
exposition of the epistle itself, I confess, as was said before, that I have
had thoughts of it for many years, and have not been without regard to it in
the whole course of my studies.  But yet
I must now say, that, after all my searching and reading, prayer and assiduous
meditation have been my only resort, and by far the most useful means of light
and assistance.  By these have my
thought been freed from many an entanglement, into which the writings of others
had cast me, or from which they could not deliver me.  Careful I have been, as of my life and soul, to bring no
prejudicate sense to the words, — to impose no meaning of my own or other men’s
upon them, nor to be imposed on by the reasonings, pretences, or curiosities of
any; but always went nakedly to the Word itself, to learn humbly the mind of
God in it, and to express it as he should enable me.  To this end, I always considered, in the first place, the sense,
meaning, and import of the words of the text, — their original derivation, use
in other authors, especially in the LXX. of the Old Testament, in the books of
the New, and particularly the writings of the same author.  Ofttimes the words expressed out of the
Hebrew, or the things alluded to among that people, I found to give much light
to the words of the apostle.  To the
general rule of attending to the design and scope of the place, the subject
treated of, mediums fixed on for arguments, and methods of reasoning, I still
kept in my eye the time and season of writing this epistle; the state and
condition of those to whom it was written; their persuasions, prejudices,
customs, light, and traditions.  I kept
also in my view the covenant and worship of the church of old; the translation
of covenant privileges and worship to the Gentiles upon a new account; the
course of providential dispensations that the Jews were under; the near
expiration of their church and state; the speedy approach of their utter
abolition and destruction, with the temptations that befell them on all these
various accounts; — without which it is impossible for any one justly <pb n="LXXXVI" id="v-Page_LXXXVI" />to follow the apostle, so as to keep close to his design or fully
to understand his meaning.”<note place="foot" n="126" id="v-p61.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p62">Preface.</p></note></p></blockquote>
<p class="Body" id="v-p63">The
result has been, a work unequalled in excellence, except, perhaps, by
Vitringa’s noble commentary on Isaiah. 
It is quite true, that in the department of verbal criticism, and even
in the exposition of some occasional passages, future expositors may have found
Owen at fault, — it is even true that the Rabbinical lore with which the work
abounds does far more to cumber than to illustrate the text; but when all this
has been conceded, how amazing is the power with which Owen has unfolded the
proportions, and brought out the meaning and spirit, of this massive
epistle!  It is like some vast monster
filled with solemn light, on whose minuter details it might be easy to suggest
improvement; but whose stable walls and noble columns astonish you at the skill
and strength of the builder the longer you gaze; and there is true sublimity in
the exclamation with which Owen laid down his pen when he had finished it:
“Now, my work is done; it is time for me to die.”  Perhaps no minister in Great Britain or America for the last
hundred and fifty years has sat down to the exposition of this portion of
inspired truth without consulting Owen’s commentary.  The appalling magnitude of the work is the most formidable
obstacle to its usefulness; and this the author himself seems to have
anticipated even in his own age of ponderous and portly folios; for we find him
modestly suggesting the possibility of treating it as if it were three separate
works, and of reading the philological, or the exegetical, or the practical
portion alone.<note place="foot" n="127" id="v-p63.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p64">Address to the Christian Reader, vol. ii.</p></note> 
We are quite aware that one man of great eminence has spoken in terms of
disparagement almost bordering on contempt of one part of this great work, —
“The Preliminary Exercitations;”<note place="foot" n="128" id="v-p64.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p65">Miscellaneous Gleanings from Hall’s Conversational Remarks, by the late Dr
Balmer of Berwick-on-Tweed.  Hall’s
Works, vi. 147.</p></note> but we must remember Hall’s love
of literary paradoxes, in common with the great lexicographer whom he imitated;
and those who are familiar with the writings of Owen — which Hall acknowledges
he was not, — will be more disposed to subscribe to the glowing terms in which
his great rival in eloquence has spoken of Owen’s Exposition: “Let me again
recommend your studious and sustained attention,” says Dr Chalmers to his students,
“to the Epistle to the Hebrews; and I should rejoice if any of you felt
emboldened on my advice to grapple with a work so ponderous as Owen’s
commentary on that epistle, — a lengthened and laborious enterprise, certainly,
but now is your season for abundant labour. 
And the only thing to be attended to is, that, in virtue of being well
directed, it shall not be wasted on a bulky, though at the same time profitless
erudition.  I promise you a hundredfold
more advantage from the perusal of this greatest work of John Owen, than <pb n="LXXXVII" id="v-Page_LXXXVII" />from the perusal of all that has been written on the subject of
the heathen sacrifices.  It is a work of
gigantic strength as well as gigantic size; and he who has mastered it is very
little short, both in respect to the doctrinal and the practical of
Christianity, of being an erudite and accomplished theologian.”<note place="foot" n="129" id="v-p65.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p66">Prelections on Hill’s lectures.  Chalmer’s
Posthumous Works, ix. 282.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p67">It has
been remarked, that there is no lesson so difficult to learn as that of true
religious toleration, for almost every sect in turn, when tempted by the power,
has resorted to the practice of persecution; and this remark has seldom
obtained more striking confirmation than in what was occurring at this time in
another part of the world.  While in
England the Independents, and Nonconformists generally, were passing from one
degree of persecution to another, at the hands of the restored adherents of
Prelacy; the Independents of New England were perpetrating even greater
severities against the Baptists and Quakers in that infant colony.  Whipping, fines, imprisonment, selling into
slavery, were punishments inflicted by them on thousands who, after all, did
not differ from their persecutors on any point that was fundamental in
religion.  One of Owen’s biographers has
taken very unnecessary pains to show that the conduct of these churches had no
connection with their principles as Independents; but this only renders their
conduct the more inexcusable, and proves how deeply rooted the spirit of
intolerance is in human nature.  Owen
and his friends heard of these events with indignation and shame, and even
feared that they might be turned to their disadvantage in England; and, in a
letter subscribed along with him by all his brethren in London, faithfully
remonstrated with the New England persecutors. 
“We only make it our hearty request,” said they, “that you will trust
God with his truth and ways, so far as to suspend all rigorous proceedings in
corporeal restraints or punishments on persons that dissent from you, and
practice the principles of their dissent without danger or disturbance to the
civil peace of the place.”  Sound advice
is here given, but we should have relished a little more of the severity of
stern rebuke.<note place="foot" n="130" id="v-p67.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p68">M’Crie’s Miscelleneous Works, p. 509.  <span lang="LA" id="v-p68.1">Magnalia Americana</span>,
b. vii. p. 28.  Orme p. 258.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p69">We have
seen that the great fire of London led to a temporary connivance at the public
preaching of the Nonconformist ministers; “it being at the first,” as Baxter
remarked, “too gross to forbid an undone people all public worship with too
great rigour.”<note place="foot" n="131" id="v-p69.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p70">Own Life, part iii. p. 20.</p></note> 
A scheme was soon after devised for giving to this liberty a legal
sanction, and which might even perhaps incorporate many of the Nonconformists
with the Established Church, — such men as Wilkins, bishop of Chester, <pb n="LXXXVIII" id="v-Page_LXXXVIII" />Tillotson, and Stillingfleet, warmly espousing the proposal.  But no sooner did the scheme become
generally known, as well as the influential names by which it was approved,
than the implacable adversaries of the Nonconformists anew bestirred
themselves, and succeeded in extinguishing its generous provisions.  It became necessary, however, in the temper
of the nation, to do something in vindication of these severities; and no
readier expedient suggested itself than to decry toleration as unfriendly to
social order, and still more to blacken the character of the Nonconformist
sufferers.  A fit instrument for this
work presented himself in Samuel Parker, a man of menial origin, who had for a
time been connected with the Puritans, but who, deserting them when they became
sufferers, was now aspiring after preferment in the Episcopal Church, and whom
Burnet describes as “full of satirical vivacity, considerably learned, but of
no judgment; and as to religion, rather impious.”<note place="foot" n="132" id="v-p70.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p71">Burnet’s Own Times, i. 382.</p></note> 
In his “Discourse of Ecclesiastical Polity,” the “authority of the civil
magistrate over the consciences of subjects in matters of external religion is
asserted, the mischief and inconveniences of toleration are represented, and
all pretences pleaded in favour of liberty of conscience are fully
answered.”  Such is the atrocious
title-page of his book, and to a modern reader, the undertaking to which it
pledges him must seem rather bold; but the confident author is reported to have
firmly believed in his own success. 
Holding out his book to the Earl of Anglesea, he said, “Let us see, my
lord, whether any of your chaplains can answer it;” and the bigoted Sheldon,
sympathizing with its spirit, naturally believed also in the exceeding force of
its arguments.  Dr Owen was chosen to
reply to Parker; which he did, in one of the noblest controversial treatises
that were ever penned by him, — “Truth and Innocence Vindicated, in a Survey of
a Discourse on Ecclesiastical Polity,” etc. 
The mind of Owen seems to have been whetted by his deep sense of wrong,
and he writes with a remarkable clearness and force of argument; while he
indulges at times in a style of irony which is justified not more by the folly
than by the baseness and wickedness of Parker’s sentiments.  There is no passage, even in the writings of
Locke, in which the province of the civil magistrate is more distinctly defined
than in some portions of his reply;<note place="foot" n="133" id="v-p71.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p72">Duod. ed., p. 92.</p></note> and it is curious to notice how,
in his allusions to trade, he anticipates some of the most established
principles of our modern political economy.<note place="foot" n="134" id="v-p72.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p73">Duod. ed., pp. 78–81.</p></note> 
Owen’s work greatly increased his celebrity among his brethren; — even
some of Parker’s friends could with difficulty conceal the impression that he
had found more than a match in the strong-minded and sturdy Puritan; and
Parker, worsted in argument, next sought to overwhelm his opponent with a
scurrility that breathed the most <pb n="LXXXIX" id="v-Page_LXXXIX" />undisguised vindictiveness.  He was “the great bell-wether of disturbance
and sedition,” — “a person who would have vied with Mahomet himself both for
boldness and imposture,” — “a viper, so swollen with venom that it must either
burst or spit its poison;” so that whoever wished to do well to his country,
“could never do it better service than by beating down the interest and
reputation of such sons of Belial.”<note place="foot" n="135" id="v-p73.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p74">Defence and Continuation of Eccleisast. Polity, and Preface to Bamhall.  Orme, p. 261.</p></note> 
On this principle, at least, Parker himself might have ranked high as a
patriot.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p75">But the
controversy was not over.  Parker had
not time to recover from the ponderous club of Owen, when he was assailed by
the keen edged wit of Andrew Marvell. 
This accomplished man, the under-secretary and bosom friend of Milton,
reviewed Parker’s work in his “Rehearsal Transposed,” — a work of which critics
have spoken as rivalling in some places the causticity and neatness of Swift,
and in others equalling the eloquent invective of Junius and the playful
exuberance of Burke.<note place="foot" n="136" id="v-p75.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p76">Campbell’s Essay on English Poetry, p. 241. 
D’Israeli’s Miscellanies of Literature, p. 238.</p></note> 
The conceited ecclesiastic was overwhelmed, and a number of masked
combatants perceiving his plight, now rushed to his defence; in all whom,
however, Marvell refused to distinguish any but Parker.  In a second part of his “Rehearsal,” he
returned to the pen-combat, as Wood has called it; and transfixed his victim
with new arrows from his exhaustless quiver. 
It is impossible to read many parts of it yet, without sharing with the
laughers of the age in the influence of Marvell’s genius.  Ridiculing his self-importance, he says, “If
he chance but to sneeze, he prays that <i>the foundations of the earth be not
shaken</i>.  Ever since he crept up to
be but <i>the weather-cock of a steeple</i>, he trembles and cracks at every
puff of wind that blows about him, as <i>if the Church of England were falling</i>.”  Marvell’s wit was triumphant; and even
Charles and his court joined in laughing at Parker’s discomfiture.<note place="foot" n="137" id="v-p76.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p77">Burnet, referring to this controversy, speaks of Marvell as “the liveliest
droll of his age, who writ in a burlesque strain, but with so peculiar and so
entertaining a conduct, that, from the king down to the tradesman, his books
were read with great pleasure.” — Own Times, i. 382.</p></note> 
“Though the delinquent did not lay violent hands on himself,” says
D’Israeli, “he did what, for an author, may be considered as desperate a
course, — withdraw from the town, and cease writing for many years,” secretly
nursing a revenge which he did not dare to gratify until he knew that Marvell
was in his grave.<note place="foot" n="138" id="v-p77.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p78">D’Israeli’s Miscellanies, pp. 234, 239.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p79">It was
one thing, however, to conquer in the field of argument, and another thing to
disarm the intolerance of those in power. 
The Parliament which met in 1671, goaded on by those sleepless
ecclesiastics <pb n="XC" id="v-Page_XC" />who were animated by the malign
spirit of Parker, confirmed all the old acts against the Nonconformists, and
even passed others of yet more intolerable rigour.<note place="foot" n="139" id="v-p79.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p80">A paper entitled, “The State of the Kingdom with respect to the present Bill
against Conventicles,” was drawn up by Owen, and laid before the Lords by
several  eminent citizens; but without
success.</p></note> 
It is impossible to predict to what consequences the enforcement of
these measures must soon have led, had not Charles, by his declaration of
indulgence, of his own authority suspended the penal statutes against
Nonconformists and Popish recusants, and given them permission to renew their
meetings for public worship on their procuring a license, which would be
granted for that purpose.  This measure
was, no doubt, unconstitutional in its form, and more than doubtful in the
motives which prompted it; but many of the Nonconformists, seeing in it only
the restoration of a right of which they ought never to have been deprived, —
and some of them, like Owen, regarding it as “an expedient, according to the
custom in former times, for the peace and security of the kingdom, until the whole
matter might be settled in Parliament,” joyfully took shelter under its
provisions.<note place="foot" n="140" id="v-p80.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p81">Biographers make mention of letters addressed to Owen, inviting him to the
presidency of Harvard College, New England; and also to a professorship in the
United Provinces.  But there is
considerable vagueness in respect to details, as well as uncertainty about
dates.  A note, however, in Wood’s
Athen. Oxon., seems to place beyond reasonable doubt the general accuracy of
the statement.  He is said by the same
authority to have been prevented from accepting the former invitation by an
order from court.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p82">The
Nonconformists were prompt in improving their precarious breathing-time.  A weekly lecture was instituted at Pinner’s
Hall by the Presbyterians and Independents, in testimony of their union of
sentiment on fundamental truths, and as an antidote to Popish, Socinian, and
Infidel opinions.<note place="foot" n="141" id="v-p82.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p83">Two lectures preached by Owen in this series appear among his works, — the
first entitled, “How we may Learn to Bear Reproofs,” <scripRef passage="Ps. cxli. 5" id="v-p83.1" parsed="|Ps|41|5|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Ps.41.5">Ps. cxli. 5</scripRef>;
the other, “The Chamber of Imagery in the Church of Rome Laid Open,” <scripRef passage="1 Pet. ii. 3" id="v-p83.2" parsed="|1Pet|2|3|0|0" osisRef="Bible:1Pet.2.3">1
Pet. ii. 3</scripRef>.</p></note> 
Owen began to preach more publicly in London to a regular congregation;
and his venerable friend, Joseph Caryl, having died soon after the declaration
of indulgence, the congregations of the two ministers consented to unite under
the ministry of Owen, in the place of worship in Leadenhall Street.<note place="foot" n="142" id="v-p83.3"><p class="footnote" id="v-p84">Mr Orme supposes the place of worship to have been that in Bury Street, St Mary
Axe; but the meeting-house was in Bury Street was not erected until 1708, when
it was occupied by the same congregation under the ministry of Dr Isaac Watts.
— Wilson’s History of Dissenting Churches, i. 252, 273.</p></note> 
Owen’s church-book presents the names of some of the chiefs of
Nonconformity as members of his flock, and “honourable women not a few.”<note place="foot" n="143" id="v-p84.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p85">Orme, pp. 277–285.</p></note> 
Among others, there have been found the names of more than one of the
heroes of the army of the Commonwealth, — such as Lord Charles Fleetwood and
Colonel Desborough; certain members of the Abney family, in whose hospitable
mansion the saintly Isaac <pb n="XCI" id="v-Page_XCI" />Watts in after times found shelter
for more than thirty years; the Countess of Anglesea; and Mrs Bendish, the
grand-daughter of Cromwell, in whom, it is said, may of the bodily and mental
features of the Protector remarkably reappeared.  Some of these might be able at times to throw their shield over
the head of Owen in those changeful and stormy years.  And there were other persons more powerful still, — such as the
Earl of Orrery, the Earl of Anglesea, Lord Berkeley, Lord Willoughby, Lord
Wharton, and Sir John Trevor, one of the principal secretaries of state; who,
though not members of Owen’s church, were religiously disposed, and Owen’s
friends, and inclined, as far as their influence went, to mitigate the
severities against the Nonconformists generally.<note place="foot" n="144" id="v-p85.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p86">Asty, p. xxix.  Noncon. Mem., i. 202.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p87">Owen’s
intimacy with these noblemen probably accounts for that interview to which he
was invited by the King and the Duke of York, and which has been faithfully
chronicled by all his biographers. 
Happening to be at Tunbridge Wells when his majesty and the duke were
also there, he was introduced to the royal tent.  The king freely conversed with him on the subject of religious
liberty, and expressed his wish to see the Dissenters relieved of their
disabilities.  On his return to London,
he invited Owen to repeated interviews, uttering the same sentiments as he had
done during the first conversation, and at length intrusted him with a thousand
guineas, to be employed by him in mitigating the sufferings of his poorer
brethren.  The general policy of Charles
sufficiently accounts for these gleams of royal sunshine.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p88">But the
importance of those friendships is not seen by us until we have marked the use
which Owen made of them in the cause of his suffering brethren.  It is well known that when the Parliament
again assembled, it expressed its strong displeasure at the king’s indulgence,
and never ceased its remonstrances until the licenses to places of worship had
been withdrawn.  A disposition, it is
true, began to show itself to distinguish between the Protestant Nonconformists
and the Romanists, and to point restriction more particularly against the
latter; but the act, which was professedly intended to bear against <i>them</i>
was so clumsily constructed as to be capable of reaching all who did not
conform, and Churchmen were not slow in giving it this direction.  The Nonconformists were exposed anew to the
persecuting storm; informers were goaded by increased rewards; and among thousands
of less illustrious sufferers, Richard Baxter suffered joyfully the spoiling of
his goods, and was condemned to what his ardent spirit did indeed feel
bitterly, — a year of almost unbroken silence.<note place="foot" n="145" id="v-p88.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p89">Jenkyn’s Essay on Life of Baxter, p. xx.</p></note> 
Owen, however, appears to have been <pb n="XCII" id="v-Page_XCII" />left comparatively unmolested, —
probably owing to the influences we have specified; and it is interesting to
learn from an adversary with what zeal and constancy he employed his advantages
to warn and succour the oppressed. 
“Witness his fishing out the king’s counsels, and inquiring whether
things went well to his great Diana, liberty of conscience? — how his majesty
stood affected to it? — whether he would connive at it and the execution of the
laws against it? — who were or could be made his friends at court? — what bills
were like to be put up in Parliament? — how that assembly was united or
divided?  And according to the
disposition of affairs he did acquaint his <i>under officers</i>; and they, by
their letters each post, were to inform their fraternity in each corner of the
kingdom how things were likely to go with them, how they should order their
business, and either for a time omit or continue their conventicles.”<note place="foot" n="146" id="v-p89.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p90">Letter to a Friend, p. 34.  Orme, p.
274.</p></note> 
Surely this was being able to find nothing against him, except as
concerning the law of his God.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p91">There
was no sufferer in whose behalf Owen exerted his influence more earnestly than
John Bunyan.  It is well known that, as
a preacher, Bunyan excited, wherever he went, an interest not surpassed even by
the ministry of Baxter.  When he
preached in barns or on commons, he gathered eager thousands around him; and
when he came to London, twelve hundred people would be found gathered together
at seven on the dark morning of a winter working-day, to hear him expound the
Word of God.  Among these admiring multitudes
Owen had often been discovered; — the most learned of the Puritans hung for
hours, that seemed like moments, upon the lips of this untutored genius.  The king is reported to have asked Owen, on
one occasion, how a learned man like him could go “to hear a tinker prate;” to
which the great theologian answered “May it please your majesty, could I
possess the tinker’s abilities for preaching, I would willingly relinquish all
my learning.”<note place="foot" n="147" id="v-p91.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p92">Hamilton’s Life of Bunyan, p. xxix.</p></note> 
For some years Bunyan’s confinement in the prison of Bedford had,
through the kindness of his good jailer, been attended with many mitigations;
but towards the latter part of it, its severities had been greatly increased,
and Owen used every effort to engage the interest of his old friend and tutor,
Dr Barlow, for his release.  Some of the
details of this matter have been questioned by Southey, and its date is
uncertain; but the leading facts seem above reasonable suspicion, and it is
pleasing to know, that after some perplexing delay, Owen’s interposition was
successful in obtaining Bunyan’s enlargement.<note place="foot" n="148" id="v-p92.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p93">Asty, p. xxx.  Southey’s Life of Bunyan,
p. lxiv.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p94">During
these chequered and anxious years, Owen’s untiring pen <pb n="XCIII" id="v-Page_XCIII" />had been as active as ever.  In 1669 he had published “A brief
Vindication of the Doctrine of the Trinity; as also, of the Person and
Satisfaction of Christ;” a little treatise, containing the condensed substance
of his great controversial work against Biddle and the Continental Socinians, —
the “<span lang="LA" id="v-p94.1">Vindiciæ Evangelicæ</span>.”  There was wisdom in
thus supplying the church with a less controversial manual on those vital questions.  Many of Owen’s larger works remind us of
some ancient castle, with its embrasures and port-holes, admirably fitting it
for the purposes of defence, but in the same degree rendering it unsuitable as
a peaceful habitation.  In little more
than forty years after Owen’s death, this little work had passed through seven
editions.<note place="foot" n="149" id="v-p94.2"><p class="footnote" id="v-p95">Anon. Mem., p. xxix.</p></note> 
In 1672 he had published “A Discourse concerning Evangelical Love,
Church Peace and Unity,” etc.; a work combining enlarged and generous sentiment
with wise discrimination, and in which Owen enters at great length into the
question respecting the occasional attendance of Nonconformists on the parish
churches, — a question which found him and Baxter once more ranged on opposite
sides.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p96">And
there were other works whose origin dated from this period, in which we can
trace the faithful watchman, piously descrying the coming danger, or seeking to
rear bulwarks against the already swelling tide.  Two of these were precious fragments broken off from his great
work on the Epistle to the Hebrews, and enlarged to meet present
exigencies.  The first was his “Treatise
on the Sabbath;” in which he joined with Baxter, and all the other great
writers among the Puritans, in seeking to preserve this precious fence, which
the goodness of God has drawn around the vineyard of his church, and which he
found assailed on the one hand by fanatics, who denounced it as a mere
ceremonial and carnal observance, and by the more numerous and noisy disciples
of the “Book of Sports,” who hated it for its spirituality.  The reader will be struck with the contrast
between the Puritan Sabbath, as it is depicted in its staid and solemn
cheerfulness by a Puritan divine, and as he often beholds it caricatured by the
modern popular writer; and as he finds Owen arguing with the same classes of
antagonists, and answering the same argument and objections as are rife at the
present day, he will be disposed to subscribe to the theory, that errors have
their orbits in which they move, and that their return may be calculated at a
given juncture.  The other work of this
class to which we refer was, “The Nature and Punishment of Apostasy Declared,
in an Exposition of <scripRef passage="Hebrews vi. 4-6" id="v-p96.1" parsed="|Heb|6|4|6|6" osisRef="Bible:Heb.6.4-Heb.6.6">Hebrews vi. 4–6</scripRef>.”<note place="foot" n="150" id="v-p96.2"><p class="footnote" id="v-p97">It is remarkable that in this treatise, p. 72–100, is to be found an
explication of the last clause of the 6<sup>th</sup> verse of the 6<sup>th</sup>
chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews, which is strangely omitted in all
editions of the “Exposition.”  The
author has had this fact pointed out to him by his learned and venerated
colleague, Dr Brown of Edinburgh.</p></note> 
It was emphatically a book for the times; when the multitudes <pb n="XCIV" id="v-Page_XCIV" />who had merely played a part in religion in Cromwell’s days had
long since thrown off the mask, and taken amends for their restraints in the
most shameless excesses; when to be sternly moral was almost to incur the
suspicion of disloyalty; when to be called a Puritan was, with many, more
discreditable than to be called a debauchee; and when the noon-day
licentiousness of Charles’ court, descending through the inferior ranks of
life, carried every thing before it but what was rooted and grounded in a
living piety.<note place="foot" n="151" id="v-p97.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p98">Burnet’s Own Times, i. 262–264.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p99">But the
greatest work of Owen at this period was one which we leave its elaborate title
to describe, — “A Discourse concerning the Holy Spirit; in which an account is
given of his name, nature, personality, dispensation, operations, and effects.  His whole work in the Old and New Creation
is explained; the doctrine concerning it vindicated from opposition and
reproaches.  The nature and necessity
also of Gospel holiness, the difference between grace and morality, or a
spiritual life to God in evangelical obedience and a course of moral virtues,
is stated and explained.”  The better
part of two centuries have elapsed since this work of Owen’s was given to the
world, and yet no English work on the same vital subject has approached it in
exhaustive fulness.<note place="foot" n="152" id="v-p99.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p100">An excellent posthumous work on the Holy Spirit, by the late Dr Jamieson of
Edinburgh, edited with memoir by Rev. Andrew Sommerville, deserves to be better
known.  It displays more than one of the
best qualities of Owen.</p></note> 
Wilberforce owns his obligations to it as one of his great theological
textbooks; and Cecil declares that it had been to him “a treasure-house” of
divinity.<note place="foot" n="153" id="v-p100.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p101">Cecil’s Works, ii. 514 — Remains.</p></note> 
It was not merely the two common extremes of error that Owen grappled
with in this masterly treatise, — that of the enthusiasts who talked of the
inward light and of secret revelations, and that of the Socinians who did not
believe that there was any Holy Ghost, and of whose scanty creed it has been
severely said, that it is not likely often to become the faith of men of
genius.  There was a third class of
writers at that time, from whom Owen apprehended more danger than either, — men
who, in their preaching, dwelt much upon the credentials of the Bible, but
little upon its truths, — who would have defended even the doctrine of the Holy
Spirit as an article of their creed, and at the same time would have derided
all reference to the actual work of divine grace upon a human heart as the
“weak imagination of distempered minds.” 
Much of Owen’s treatise has reference to these accommodating and courtly
divines, and is, in fact, a vindication of the reality of the spiritual
life.  He is not always able to repress
his satire against these writers.  Some
of them had complained that they were reproached as “rational <pb n="XCV" id="v-Page_XCV" />divines;” to which he replied, that if they were so reproached, it
was, so far as he could discern, as Jerome was beaten by an angel for being a
Ciceronian (in the judgment of some), very undeservedly.<note place="foot" n="154" id="v-p101.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p102">Address to the readers, p. xli.  The
whole of Owen’s comprehensive plan, however, was not completed in this central
treatise.  New treatises continued to
appear at intervals, giving to some important branch of this subject a more
full discussion.  In 1677 appeared “The
Reason of Faith; or, an answer to the inquiry, Wherefore we believe the Scriptures
to be the Word of God?”  In 1678, “The
Causes, Ways and Means of Understanding the mind of God as Revealed in his
Word; and a declaration of the perspicuity of the Scriptures, with the external
means of the interpretation of them.” 
In 1682, “The Work of the Holy Spirit in Prayer; with a brief inquiry
into the nature and use of mental prayers and forms.”  At length, in 1693, two posthumous discourses, “On the Work of
the Sprit as a Comforter, and as he is the Author of Spiritual Gifts.” filled
up Owen’s elaborate outlines. — Orme, p. 293.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p103">Few
glimpses are given us of Owen’s domestic history; but it appears that, in
January 1676, he was bereaved of his first wife.  One of his early biographers says that she “was an excellent and
comely person, very affectionate towards him, and met with suitable returns.”<note place="foot" n="155" id="v-p103.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p104">Anon. Mem., p. xxxiv.  Her epitaph by Mr
Gilbert helps to fill up the portrait:—</p>
<verse id="v-p104.1">
<l id="v-p104.2">“<span lang="LA" id="v-p104.3">Prima ætatis virilis consors Maria,</span></l>
<l id="v-p104.4"><span lang="LA" id="v-p104.5">Rei domesticæ perite studiosa.</span></l>
<l id="v-p104.6"><span lang="LA" id="v-p104.7">Rebus Dei domus se totum addicendi;</span></l>
<l id="v-p104.8"><span lang="LA" id="v-p104.9">Copiam illi fecit gratissimam.</span>”</l>
</verse>
<p class="footnote" id="v-p105">There is a touching passage in a small work,
remarkably well written, but little known, that leads us to think of Owen as an
unusually tried parent.  “His exercises
by affliction were very great in respect of his children, none of whom he much
enjoyed while living, and saw them all go off the stage before him.” —
Vindication of Owen by a friendly Scrutiny into the merits and manner of Mr
Baxter’s opposition to Twelve Arguments concerning Worship by the Liturgy, p.
38.</p></note> 
He remained a widower for about eighteen months, when he married a lady
of the name of Michel, the daughter of a family of rank in Dorsetshire, and the
widow of Thomas D’Oyley, Esq. of Chiselhampton, near Stadham.  This lady brought Dr Owen a considerable
fortune; which, with his own property, and a legacy that was left him about the
same time by his cousin, Martyn Owen, made his condition easy, and even
affluent, so that he was able to keep a carriage during his remaining
years.  On all which Anthony Wood
remarks, with monkish spite, that “Owen took all occasions to enjoy the
comfortable importances of this life.”<note place="foot" n="156" id="v-p105.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p106">Wood’s Athen. Oxon., iv. 100, 101.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p107">Many
symptoms were now beginning to make it evident that Owen’s public career was
drawing to a close.  The excitements and
anxieties of a most eventful life, and the fatigues of severe study, were
making themselves visible in more than one disease.  Asthma afflicted him with such severity as often to unfit him for
preaching; and stone, the frequent and agonizing disease of studious men in
those times, gave no uncertain signs of its presence.  In these circumstances it became necessary to obtain assistants,
both in the pastorate of the church in Leadenhall street, and also to act as
his amanuenses <pb n="XCVI" id="v-Page_XCVI" />in preparing his remaining works
for the press among those who, for brief periods, were thus connected with him,
we meet with the names of two persons of rather remarkable history, — Robert
Ferguson, who, beginning his life as a minister, became at length a political
intriguer and pamphleteer, and, after undertaking some perilous adventures in
the cause of William, ultimately became a Jacobite, and ended his eccentric and
agitated course with more of notoriety than of honour; and Alexander Shields, a
Scotchman, whose antipathy to Prelacy was surpassed by his piety, and whose name
Scottish Presbyterians still venerate as the author of the “Hind let Loose.”<note place="foot" n="157" id="v-p107.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p108">Orme, p. 301.  Burnet sketches the
character of Ferguson with his usual bold distinctness: “He was a hot and bold
man, whose spirit was naturally turned to plotting,” etc. — Own Times, i. 542.</p></note> 
These two probably laboured with Owen principally in the capacity of
amanuenses; but the amiable and excellent David Clarkson shared with him the
duties of the pastorate, and rejoiced to divide the anxieties and toils, and
soothe the declining years, of the illustrious Puritan.  Clarkson evidently won the generous
admiration of Baxter; and Dr Bates beautifully spoke of him as “a real saint,
in whom the living spring of grace in his heart diffused itself in the veins of
his conversation.  His life was a silent
repetition of his holy discourses.”<note place="foot" n="158" id="v-p108.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p109">Funeral Sermon by Mr Bates on <scripRef passage="John xiv. 2" id="v-p109.1" parsed="|John|14|2|0|0" osisRef="Bible:John.14.2">John
xiv. 2</scripRef>,
“In my Father’s house are many mansions,” &amp;c. — <span lang="LA" id="v-p109.2">Reliquæ Baxterianæ</span>,
part iii. p. 97.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p110">With the
help of his amanuenses, Owen completed and published, in 1677, “The Doctrine of
Justification by Faith, through the Imputation of the Righteousness of Christ,
Explained, Confirmed, and Vindicated,” — a work in which all the ratiocinative
strength and command of resources of his best controversial days appear
undiminished.  We concur, indeed, to a
certain extent, in the censure which has been charged against that part of it
which treats of the nature of justifying faith, as tending to perplex a subject
whose very simplicity makes explanation equally impossible and
unnecessary.  The censure, however,
ought not to be confined to Owen; for on the subject of faith the Puritan
divines, with their scholastic distinctions, were far inferior to the
theologians of the Reformation.  The
great difficulty about faith is not a metaphysical but a moral one; and there
is truth in the observation, that elaborate attempts to describe it are like
handling a beautiful transparency, whose lustre disappears whensoever it is
touched.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p111">This
great work was probably the ripened fruit of many years of thought But as we
examine the productions of Owen during the few remaining years of his life, it
is easy to discover that they belonged principally to three classes, and two of
those especially, owed their origin to events that were occurring around him,
and to dangerous tendencies which his ever-vigilant eye was quick to
discover.  First, there were his various
writings against Popery, such as his <pb n="XCVII" id="v-Page_XCVII" />“Church of Rome no Safe Guide;” his
“Brief and Impartial Account of the Protestant Religion;” and, in some degree
also, his “Humble Testimony to the Goodness of God in his Dealing with Sinful
Churches and Nations.”  In all of these
we hear the watchman answering, “What of the night?”  He is alive to the sympathies of Charles and his court with
Popery, — to the readiness of not a few in the Church of England to move in the
direction of Rome, — to the avowed so Romanism of the Duke of York, and his
possible succession to the throne, — and to the dangers to religion, to
liberty, and to every thing most dear to man, which these lowering evils
portended.  The wisdom and foresight of
Dr Owen in many parts of these writings, which we now read in the light of
subsequent events, strike us with surprise, often with admiration.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p112">In
addition to beholding the Protestants duly inspirited and alarmed on the
subject of Popery, Owen longed to see all alienations and divisions among them
dispelled, and the various parts of the great Protestant community so united
and mutually confiding, as to be prepared to resist their common
adversary.  Not that he was the less
convinced of the necessity and duty of separation from the Episcopal Church;
for in a controversy with Stillingfleet, into which an ungenerous assault of
that able Churchman drew him, he had produced one of his best defences of
Nonconformity;<note place="foot" n="159" id="v-p112.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p113">This was a bulky pamphlet, entitled, “A brief Vindication of Nonconformists
from the Charge of Schism, as it was managed against them in a Sermon by Dr
Stillingfleet.”  All the leading
Nonconformists appear to have taken part in this controversy, from the grave
Howe to witty Alsop.  Stillingfleet
replied in a clever work on the “Unreasonableness of Separation;” against which
Owen brought his heavy artillery to bear with desolating effect, in “An Answer
to the ‘Unreasonableness of Separation,’ and a Defence of the ‘Vindication of
the Nonconformists from the Guilt of Schism.’ ”</p></note> but he felt a growing desire, both
to see the real differences between the various branches of the Nonconformist
family reduced to their true magnitude, and, in spite of the differences that
might, after all, remain, to behold them banded together in mutual confidence
and united action.  His work on “Union
among Protestants” was written with this wise and generous design; and this, we
are persuaded, was one of the chief ends contemplated by another work, — his
“Inquiry into the Origin, Nature, Institution, Power, Order, and Communion of
Evangelical Churches.”<note place="foot" n="160" id="v-p113.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p114">A second part of this treatise, “The True Nature of a Gospel Church, and its
Government,” was posthumous, and did not appear till 1689.</p></note> 
We are quite aware that some have represented this highly valuable
treatise as a recantation of Dr Owen’s views on church polity, and a return to
those Presbyterian sentiments with which he had entered on his public life; but
an examination of the treatise, we think, will make it evident that this was
not in Owen’s thoughts, and that his aim was rather to show how far he <pb n="XCVIII" id="v-Page_XCVIII" />could come to meet the moderate Presbyterian, and to lay down a
platform on which united action, in those times of trouble and of perils, which
all division aggravated, could consistently take place.  Accordingly we find him, while admirably
describing the true nature of a Gospel church, as a society of professed
believers, and refusing to any man or body of men “all power of legislation in
or over the church,” avowing it as his conviction, that “the order of the
officers which was so early in the primitive church, — viz. of one pastor or
bishop in one church, assisted in rule and all holy ministrations with many
elders, teaching or ruling only, — does not so overthrow church order as to
render its rule or discipline useless.” 
And in reference to the communion of churches, while repudiating every
thing like authoritative interference and dictation on the part of any church
or assembly of rulers, he holds that “no church is so independent that it can
always, and in all cases, observe the duties it owes to the Lord Christ and the
church catholic, by all those powers which it is able to act in itself
distinctly, without conjunction of others; and the church which confines its
duty to the acts of its own assemblies, cuts itself off from the external
communion of the church catholic.”  He
holds that “a synod convened in the name of Christ, by the voluntary consent of
several churches concerned in mutual communion, may declare and determine of
the mind of the Holy Ghost in Scripture, and decree the observation of things
true and necessary, because revealed and appointed in the Scripture.”  And farther, that “if it be reported or known,
by credible testimony, that any church has admitted into the exercise of divine
worship any thing superstitious or vain, or if the members of it walk, like
those described by the apostle, <scripRef passage="Phil. iii. 18, 19" id="v-p114.1" parsed="|Phil|3|18|0|0;|Phil|3|19|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Phil.3.18 Bible:Phil.3.19">Phil. iii. 18, 19</scripRef>, unto the dishonour of the Gospel and of the ways of Christ, the
church itself not endeavouring its own reformation and repentance, other
churches walking in communion therewith, by virtue of their common interest in
the glory of Christ and honour of the Gospel, after more private ways for its
reduction, as opportunity and duty may suggest unto their elders, ought to
assemble in a synod for advice, either as to the use of farther means for the
recovery of such a church, or to withhold communion from it in case of
obstinacy in its evil ways.”<note place="foot" n="161" id="v-p114.2"><p class="footnote" id="v-p115">The True Nature of a Gospel Church, etc., chap. xi.</p></note> 
We do not attempt to measure the distance between these principles and
the Presbyterianism of Owen’s day, or the diminished distance between them and
the modified Presbyterianism of our own; but we state them, with one of Owen’s
oldest biographers, as an evidence of his “healing temper in this matter;”<note place="foot" n="162" id="v-p115.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p116">Anon. Mem., p. xxxiv.  The same writer
adds, in illustration of this healing temper, “I heard him say, before a person
of quality and others, he could readily join with Presbytery as it was
exercised in Scotland.</p></note> and we even <pb n="XCIX" id="v-Page_XCIX" />venture to suggest whether, at some future period of increased
spirituality and external danger, they may not form the basis of a stable and
honourable union among the two great evangelical sections of modern
Nonconformists.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p117">But
besides the outward dangers to Protestantism, which made Owen so eager for
union among his friends, we discover another and more interesting explanation
still in the increased occupation of his mind with the great central truths of
the Gospel, and his growing delight in them. 
The minor distinctions among Christians come to be seen by us in their
modified proportions, when we have taken our place within the inner circle of
those great truths which constitute the peculiar glory and power of
Christianity; and this inner and more radiant circle formed more and more the
home of Dr Owen’s heart.  This is
evident from the three great doctrinal and devotional works which were produced
by him at this period, and which we have yet to name.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p118">First,
there appeared his “<span lang="EL" class="Greek" id="v-p118.1">Χριστολογία</span>, or Declaration of the Glorious
Mystery of the Person of Christ, God and man, with the infinite wisdom, love,
and power of God in the constitution thereof. 
As also, of the grounds and reasons of his incarnation; the nature of
his ministry in heaven; the present state of the church above thereon; and the
use of his person in religion,” etc. 
The root from which the whole discourse springs, is the memorable
declaration of our Lord to Peter, <scripRef passage="Matt. xvi. 18" id="v-p118.2" parsed="|Matt|16|18|0|0" osisRef="Bible:Matt.16.18">Matt. xvi. 18</scripRef>, “And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this
rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against
it:” — a declaration in which Owen finds three great truths, whose illustration
forms the substance of the volume; — that the person of Christ is the
foundation of his church; that opposition will be made by the powers of earth
and hell to the church, as built on the person of Christ; and that the church
built on the person of Christ shall never be separated from it or
destroyed.  It is easy to see what a
rich field of doctrinal statement, learned illustration, and devout reflection,
is opened for Owen’s mind in these themes; and he expatiates in it with all the
delight of a mind accustomed to high and heavenly communion.  It is pleasing to mark how he casts off the
cumbrous armour of a sometimes too scholastic style, that had kept him down in
some of his earlier treatises; and, rising from the simply didactic into the
devotional, aims to catch joyful glimpses of the glory that is soon to be
revealed.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p119">Then
followed his heart-searching, heart-inspiring treatise on “The Grace and Duty
of being Spiritually-minded,” first preached to his own heart, and then to a
private congregation; and which reveals to us the almost untouched and
untrodden eminences on which Owen walked in the last years of his pilgrimage, —
eminences for reaching which, <pb n="C" id="v-Page_C" />it has been said by one of the
humblest and holiest of men of our own times, “it would almost appear indispensable
that the spiritual life should be nourished in solitude; and that, afar from
the din, and the broil, and the tumult of ordinary life, the candidate for
heaven should give himself up to the discipline of prayer and of constant
watchfulness.”<note place="foot" n="163" id="v-p119.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p120">Introductory Essay to Owen on Spiritual-mindedness, by Dr Chalmers, p. xxiv.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p121">The last
production of Owen’s pen was his “Meditations and Discourses on the Glory of
Christ.”<note place="foot" n="164" id="v-p121.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p122">“Weakness, weariness, and the near approaches of death, do call me off from any
farther labour in this kind.” — Preface to reader.</p></note> 
It embodies the holy musings of his latest days, and in many parts of it
seems actually to echo the presses of the heavenly worshippers.  We may apply to Owen’s meditations, as
recorded in this book, the words of Bunyan in reference to his pilgrim, —
“Drawing near to the city, he had yet a more perfect view thereof.”  It is a striking circumstance, that each of
the three great Puritan divines wrote a treatise on the subject of heaven, and
that each had his own distinct aspect in which he delighted to view it.  To the mind of Baxter, the most prominent
idea of heaven was that of rest; and who can wonder, when it is remembered that
his earthly life was little else than one prolonged disease?  — to the mind of Howe, ever aspiring after a
purer state of being, the favourite conception of heaven was that of holy
happiness; — while to the mind of Owen, heaven’s glory was regarded as
consisting in the unveiled manifestation of Christ.  The conceptions, though varied, are all true; and Christ, fully
seen and perfectly enjoyed, will secure all the others.  Let us now trace the few remaining steps
that conducted Owen into the midst of this exceeding weight of glory.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p123">We have already
mentioned Lord Wharton, as one of those noblemen who continued their kindness
to the Nonconformists in the midst of all their troubles.  His country residence at Woburn, in
Buckinghamshire, afforded a frequent asylum to the persecuted ministers; just
as we find the castles of Mornay and De Plessis in France opened by their noble
owners as a refuge to the Huguenots.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p124">During
his growing infirmities, Owen was invited to Woburn, to try the effect of
change of air; and also that others of his persecuted brethren, meeting him in
this safe retreat, might enjoy the benefit of united counsel and devotion.  It appears that while here his infirmities
increased upon him, and that he was unable to return to his flock in London at
the time that he had hoped; and a letter written to them from this place, gives
us so vivid a reflection of the anxieties of a period of persecution, and so
interesting a specimen of Owen’s fidelity and affection to his people, in the
present experience <pb n="CI" id="v-Page_CI" />of suffering, and in the dread of
more, that we have peculiar delight in interweaving it with our narrative:—</p>
<blockquote id="v-p124.1"><p id="v-p125">“<span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="v-p125.1">Beloved in the Lord</span>, — Mercy, grace, and
peace be multiplied to you from God our Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ,
by the communication of the Holy Ghost. 
I thought and hoped that by this time I might have been present with
you, according to my desire and resolution; but it has pleased our holy
gracious Father otherwise to dispose of me, at least for a season.  The continuance of my painful infirmities,
and the increase of my weaknesses, will not allow me at present to hope that I
should be able to bear the journey.  How
great an exercise this is to me, considering the season, he knows, to whose
will I would in all things cheerfully submit myself.  But although I am absent from you in body, I am in mind,
affection, and spirit, present with you, and in your assemblies; for I hope you
will be found my crown and rejoicing in the day of the Lord; and my prayer for
you night and day is, that you may stand fast in the whole will of God, and
maintain the beginning of your confidence without wavering, firm unto the
end.  I know it is needless for me, at
this distance, to write to you about what concerns you in point of duty at this
season, that work being well supplied by my brother in the ministry; you will
give me leave, out of my abundant affections towards you, to bring some few
things to your remembrance, as my weakness will permit.</p><p id="v-p126">“In the
first place, I pray God it may be rooted and fixed in our minds, that the shame
and loss we may undergo for the sake of Christ and the profession of the Gospel
is the greatest honour which in this life we can be made partakers of.  So it was esteemed by the apostles, — they
rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name’s sake.  It is a privilege superadded to the grace of
faith, which all are not made partakers of. 
Hence it is reckoned to the Philippians in a peculiar manner, that it
was given to them, not only to believe in Christ, but also to suffer for him, —
that it is far more honourable to suffer with Christ than to reign with the
greatest of his enemies.  If this be
fixed by faith in our minds, it will tend greatly to our encouragement.  I mention these things only, as knowing that
they are more at large pressed on you.</p><p id="v-p127">“The next
thing I would recommend to you at this season, is the increase of mutual love
among yourselves; for every trial of our faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ is
also a trial of our love towards the brethren. 
This is that which the Lord Christ expects from us, — namely, that when
the hatred of the world does openly manifest and act itself against us all, we
should evidence an active love among ourselves.  If there have been any decays, any coldness herein, if they are
not recovered and healed in such a season, it can never be expected.  I pray God, therefore, that your mutual love
may abound more and more in all the effects and fruits of it towards the whole
society, and every member thereof.  You
may justly measure the fruit of your present trial by the increase of this
grace among you; in particular, have a due regard to the weak and the tempted,
— that that which is lame may not be turned out of the way, but rather let it
be healed.</p><p id="v-p128">“Furthermore,
brethren, I beseech you, hear a word of advice in case the persecution
increases, — which it is like to do for a season.  I could wish that, because you have no ruling elders, and your
teachers cannot walk about publicly with safety, that you would appoint some among
yourselves, who may continually, as their occasions will admit, go up and down,
from house to house, and apply themselves peculiarly to the weak, the tempted,
the fearful, — those that are ready to despond or to halt, and to encourage
them in the Lord.  Choose out those to
this end who are endued with a spirit of courage and fortitude; and let them
know that they are happy whom Christ will honour with this blessed work.  And I desire the persons may be of this
number who are faithful men, and know the state of the church; by this means
you will know what is the frame of the members of the church, <pb n="CII" id="v-Page_CII" />which will be a great direction to you, even in your prayers.  Watch, now, brethren, that, if it be the
will of God, not one soul may be lost from under your care.  Let no one be overlooked or neglected;
consider all their conditions, and apply yourselves to all their circumstances</p><p id="v-p129">“Finally,
brethren, that I be not at present farther troublesome to you, examine
yourselves as to your spiritual benefit which you have received, or do receive,
by your present fears and dangers, which will alone give you the true measure
of your condition; for if this tends to the exercise of your faith, and love,
and holiness, if this increases your valuation of the privileges of the Gospel,
it will be an undoubted token of the blessed issue which the Lord Christ will
give unto your troubles.  Pray for me,
as you do; and do it the rather, that, if it be the will of God, I may be
restored to you, — and if not, that a blessed entrance may be given to me into
the kingdom of God and glory.  Salute
all the church in my name.  I take the
boldness in the Lord to subscribe myself your unworthy pastor, and your servant
for Jesus’ sake,</p><p style="text-align:right" id="v-p130"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="v-p130.1">J. Owen</span>.</p><p id="v-p131">“P.S. — I
humbly desire you would in your prayers remember the family where I am, from
whom I have received, and do receive, great Christian kindness.  I may say, as the apostle of Onesiphorus,
‘The Lord give to them that they may find mercy of the Lord in that day, for
they have often refreshed me in my great distress.’ ”</p></blockquote>
<p class="Body" id="v-p132">His
infirmities increasing, he soon after removed from London to Kensington, for
country air; occasionally, however, he was able still to visit London; and an
incident which happened to him on one of these visits presents us with another
picture of the times.  As he was driving
along the Strand, his carriage was stopped by two informers, and his horses
seized.  Greater violence would
immediately have followed, had it not been that Sir Edmund Godfrey, a justice
of the peace, was passing at the time, and seeing a mob collected round the
carriage, asked what was the matter?  On
ascertaining the circumstances, he ordered the informers, with Dr Owen, to meet
him at the house of another justice of the peace on an appointed day.  When the day came, it was found that the
informers had acted so irregularly, that they were not only disappointed of
their base reward, but severely reprimanded and dismissed.  Thus once more did Owen escape as a bird
from the snare of the fowler.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p133">Retiring
still farther from the scenes of public life, Owen soon after took up his abode
in the quiet village of Ealing, where he had a house of his own and some
property.  Only once again did
persecution hover over him, and threaten to disturb the sacredness of his
declining days, by seeking to involve him and some other of the Nonconformists
in the Rye House plot; but the charge was too bold to be believed, and God was
about, ere long, to remove him from the reach of all these evils, and to hide
him in his pavilion, from the pride of man and from the strife of tongues.  Anthony Wood has said of Owen that “he did
very unwillingly lay down his head and die,” but how different was the
spectacle of moral sublimity presented to the eyes of those who were actual
witnesses of the last days of the magnanimous <pb n="CIII" id="v-Page_CIII" />and heavenly-minded Puritan!  In one of his latest writings, when
referring to the near approach of the daily expected and earnestly desired hour
of his discharge from all farther service in this world, he had said, “In the
continual prospect hereof do I yet live, and rejoice; which, among other
advantages unspeakable, has already given me an inconcernment in those
oppositions which the passions or interests of men engage them in, of a very
near alliance unto, and scarce distinguishable from, that which the grave will
afford.”  And all the exercises of his
deathbed were the prolonged and brightening experience of what he here
describes.  In a letter to his beloved
friend Charles Fleetwood, on the day before his death, he thus beautifully
expresses his Christian affection, and his good hope through grace:—</p>
<blockquote id="v-p133.1"><p id="v-p134">“<span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="v-p134.1">Dear Sir</span>, — Although I am not able to
write one word myself, yet I am very desirous to speak one word more to you in
this world, and do it by the hand of my wife. 
The continuance of your entire kindness, knowing what it is accompanied
withal, is not only greatly valued by me, but will be a refreshment to me, as
it is, even in my dying hour.  I am
going to Him whom my soul has loved, or rather who has loved me with an everlasting
love, — which is the whole ground of all my consolation.  The passage is very irksome and wearisome,
through strong pains of various sorts, which are all issued in an intermitting
fever.  All things were provided to
carry me to London today, according to the advice of my physicians; but we are
all disappointed by my utter disability to undertake the journey.  I am leaving the ship of the church in a
storm; but whilst the great Pilot is in it, the loss of a poor under-rower will
be inconsiderable.  Live, and pray, and
hope, and wait patiently, and do not despond; the promise stands invincible,
that He will never leave us, nor forsake us. 
I am greatly afflicted at the distempers of your dear lady; the good
Lord stand by her, and support and deliver her.  My affectionate respects to her, and the rest of your relations,
who are so dear to me in the Lord. 
Remember your dying friend with all fervency.  I rest upon it that you do so, and am yours entirely,</p><p style="text-align:right" id="v-p135"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="v-p135.1">J. Owen.</span>”</p></blockquote>
<p class="Body" id="v-p136">The
first sheet of his “Meditations on the Glory of Christ” had passed through the
press under the superintendence of the Rev. William Payne, a Dissenting
minister at Saffron Waldon, in Essex; and on that person calling on him to
inform him of the circumstance on the morning of the day he died, he exclaimed,
with uplifted hands, and eyes looking upwards, “I am glad to hear it; but, O
brother Payne! the long wished-for day is come at last, in which I shall see
that glory in another manner than I have ever done, or was capable of doing, in
this world.”<note place="foot" n="165" id="v-p136.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p137">Middleton, iii. p. 480.</p></note> 
Still it was no easy thing for that robust frame to be broken to pieces,
and to let the struggling spirit go free. 
His physicians, Dr Cox and Sir Edmund King, remarked on the unusual
strength of that earthly house which was about to be dissolved; while his more
constant attendants on that consecrated hour were awe-struck by the mastery
which his mighty and heaven-supported spirit maintained over his physical
agonies.  “In respect of <pb n="CIV" id="v-Page_CIV" />sicknesses, very long, languishing, and often sharp and violent,
like the blows of inevitable death, yet was he both calm and submiss under
all.”<note place="foot" n="166" id="v-p137.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p138">Vindication of Owen by a friendly Scrutiny, etc., p. 38.</p></note> 
At length the struggle ceased; and with eyes and hands uplifted, as if
his last act was devotion, the spirit of Owen passed in silence into the world
of glory.  It happened on the 24<sup>th</sup>
of August 1683, the anniversary of St. Bartholomew’s Day; — a day memorable in
the annals of the Church of Christ, as that in which the two thousand
Nonconformist confessors had exposed themselves to poverty and persecution at
the call of conscience, and in which heaven’s gates had been opened wide to
receive the martyred Protestants of France. 
Eleven days afterwards, a long and mournful procession, composed of more
than sixty noblemen, in carriages drawn by six horses each, and of many others in
mourning coaches and on horseback, silently followed the mortal remains of Owen
along the streets of London, and deposited them in Bunhill-fields, — the
Puritan necropolis.<note place="foot" n="167" id="v-p138.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p139">Stoughton’s Spiritual Heroes.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p140">“We have
had a light in this candlestick,” said the amiable David Clarkson, on the
Sabbath following; “we have had a light in this candlestick, which did not only
enlighten the room, but gave light to others far and near: but it is put
out.  We did not sufficiently value
it.  I wish I might not say that our
sins have put it out.  We had a special
honour and ornament, such as other churches would much prize; but the crown has
fallen from our heads, — yea, may I not add, ‘Woe unto us, for we have
sinned?’ ”<note place="foot" n="168" id="v-p140.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p141">“Funeral Sermon on the most lamented death of the late reverend and learned
John Owen, D.D., preached the next Lord’s day after his interment.”  By David Clarkson, B.D.</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p142">Dr Owen
had only reached the confines of old age when he died; but the wonder is, that
a life of such continuous action and severe study had not sooner burned out the
lamp.  It may be remarked of him, as
Andrew Fuller used to say of himself, that “he possessed a large portion of
being.”  He is said to have stooped
considerably during the later years of his life; but when in his full vigour,
his person was tall and majestic, while there was a singular mixture of gravity
and sweetness in the expression of his countenance.  His manners were courteous; his familiar conversation, though
never deficient in gravity, was pleasantly seasoned with wit; and he was
admired by his friends for his remarkable command of temper under the most
annoying provocations, and his tranquil magnanimity in the midst of all the
changes of fortune to which, in common with all his great Puritan contemporaries,
he was exposed.  “His general frame was
serious, cheerful, and discoursive, — his expressions savouring nothing of
discontent, much of heaven and love to Christ, and saints, and all men; which
came from him so seriously and <pb n="CV" id="v-Page_CV" />spontaneously, as if grace and
nature were in him reconciled, and but one thing.”<note place="foot" n="169" id="v-p142.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p143">Vindication of Owen by a friendly Scrutiny, etc., p. 38.</p></note> 
Such is the portrait of Owen that has descended to us from those who
best “knew his manner of life;” and our regret is all the greater, that we are
constrained to receive the description in this general form, and that biography
has opened to us so few of those glimpses of his domestic and social life which
would have enabled us to “catch the living manners as they rose,” and to fill
up for ourselves the less strongly defined outlines of his character.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p144">Our
business, however, is more with Dr Owen in his various public relations, and it
seems to be a fit conclusion of this Memoir, that we should now attempt, in a
few closing paragraphs, to express the estimate which a review of his conduct
in these relations warrants us to form of his character.  One of the most natural errors into which a
biographer is in danger of being betrayed, is that of asserting the superiority
of the individual who has been the subject of his memoir to all his
contemporaries; and it would probably require no great stretch of ingenuity or
eloquent advocacy to bring out Dr Owen as at least “primus inter pares.”  In finding our way, however, to such
conclusions, almost every thing depends on the particular excellence on which
we fix as our standard of judgment; and we are persuaded that were we allowed
to select a separate excellence in each case our standard, we could bring out
each of the three great Puritans as, in his turn, the greatest.  Let impressive eloquence in the pulpit and
ubiquitous activity out of it be the standard, and all this crowned with
successes truly apostolical, and must not every preacher of his age yield the
palm to Richard Baxter?  Or let our task
be to search for the man in that age of intellectual giants who was most at
home in the <i>philosophy</i> of Christianity, whose imagination could bear
every subject he touched upwards into the sunlight, and cover it with the
splendours of the firmament, and would we not lay the crown at the feet of the
greatly good John Howe?  But let the
question be, who among all the Puritans was the most remarkable for his
intimate and profound acquaintance with the truths of revelations who could
shed the greatest amount of light upon a selected portion of the Word of God,
discovering its hidden riches, unfolding its connections and harmonies, and
bringing the most abstruse doctrines of revelation to bear upon the conduct and
the life who was the “interpreter, one amongst a thousand?” or let other
excellencies that we are about to specify be chosen as the standard, and will
not the name of Dr Owen, in this case, obtain an unhesitating and unanimous
suffrage? Such a mode, therefore, of expressing our estimate is not only
invidious, but almost certain to fail, after all, in conveying a distinct and
accurate conception of the character we <pb n="CVI" id="v-Page_CVI" />commend.  We prefer, therefore, to contemplate Dr Owen in his principal
relations and most prominent mental features, and to paint a portrait without
fashioning an idol.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p145">The
first excellence we have to name is one in regard to which, we are persuaded,
the modern popular estimate has fallen considerably below the truth.  We refer to the qualities of Owen as a
preacher.  No one who is familiar with
his printed sermons, and has marked the rich ore of theology with which they
abound, will refuse to him the praise of a great sermon-maker; but this gift is
not always found united in the same person with that other excellence which is
equally necessary to constitute the preacher, — the power, namely, of expressing
all the sentiment and feeling contained in the words by means of the living
voice.  And the general impression seems
to be, that Dr Owen was deficient in this quality, and that his involved
sentences, though easily overlooked in a composition read in secret, must,
without the accompaniments of a most perfect delivery, have been fatal to their
effect upon a public audience.  It is
even supposed that his intellectual habits must have been unfavourable to his
readiness as an orator, and that while, like Addison, he had abundance of gold
in the bank, he was frequently at a loss for ready money.  But Owen’s contemporaries report far
differently; and the admiring judgment of some of them is the more to be relied
on, that, as in the case of Anthony Wood, it was given with a grudge.  Their descriptions, indeed, would lead us to
conclude his eloquence was of the persuasive and insinuating, rather than, like
Baxter’s, of the impassioned kind, — the dew, and not the tempest; but in this
form of eloquence he appears to have reached great success.  His amiable colleague, Mr Clarkson, speaking
of “the admirable facility with which he could discourse on any subject,”
describes him as “never at a loss for language, and better expressing himself
extempore than others with premeditation;” and retaining this felicity of
diction and mastery of his thoughts “in the presence even of the highest
persons in the nation.”  We have already
had occasion to quote Wood’s representation of Owen’s oratory, as “moving and
winding the affections of his auditory almost as he pleased;”<note place="foot" n="170" id="v-p145.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p146">The words seems to be Dodwell’s, but they are quoted by Wood with approval.</p></note> and a writer of great judgment and
discrimination, who had often heard Owen preach, speaks of him as “so great an
ornament to the pulpit, that, for matter, manner, and efficacy on the hearers,
he represented indeed an ambassador of the Most High, a teacher of the oracles
of God.  His person and deportment were
so genteel and graceful, that rendered him when present as affecting, or more
than his works and fame when absent. 
This advanced the lustre of his internal excellencies, by shining
through so bright a lantern.”</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p147"><pb n="CVII" id="v-Page_CVII" />Indeed, the sermons of Owen and his
compeers, not only compel us to form a high estimate of the preachers, but of
the hearers of those times, who could relish such strong meat, and invite its repetition.  And seldom perhaps on earth has a preacher
been called to address more select audiences than Owen.  We do not now refer to the crowding
multitudes that hailed his early ministry at Fordham and Coggeshall, or to
those little secret audiences meeting in upper chambers, to whom truth was
whispered rather than proclaimed, but to those high intellects that were wont
to assemble around him at Oxford, and to those helmed warriors and heroes of
the commonwealth, who, on days of public fasting and thanksgiving, or on high
occasions of state, would stand in groups to hear the great Puritan
discourse.  Many of these earnest souls
were no sciolists in divinity themselves, and had first drawn their swords to
secure the liberty of prophesying and uncontrolled freedom of worship.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p148">We
should form a very imperfect estimate of the character of Dr Owen, and of the
beneficent influence which he exerted, did we not advert to his greatness as a
man of affairs.  In this respect we need
have no hesitation in asserting his superiority to all the Puritans.  Attached from principle to that great party
whose noble mission it was to assert and to vindicate the rights of conscience
and freedom of worship, he soon rose to be its chief adviser on all occasions
of great practical exigency.  He
combined in a remarkable degree that clear perception and firm grasp of great
abstract principles, that quick discernment of character and detection of
hidden motive in others, which acts in some men with all the promptitude and
infallibility of instinct, — that fertility of resources, that knowledge of the
times for vigorous action and of the times in which to economize strength,
which, when found in great prominence and happy combination in the politician,
fit him for the high duties of statesmanship. 
He was the man who, by common consent, was called to the helm in a
storm.  Baxter was deficient in more
than one of those qualities which are necessary to such a post; while his
ardent nature would, on some occasions, have betrayed him into practical
excesses, and at other times his love of nice and subtle distinction would have
kept him discussing when he should have been acting; — while Howe’s elevation
above the affairs of daily life, his love of solitude, which made him almost
wish even to die alone in some unfrequented wood, or on the top of some far
remote mountain, disinclined, if it did not unfit him, for the conduct of
public affairs.  But Owen’s singular
excellence in this respect was early manifested, — and to no eye sooner than to
that of Cromwell.  We have seen him
inviting his counsels on the affairs of Dublin University; taking him with him
to Scotland, not only as his chaplain, but as his adviser in the affairs of
that campaign, <pb n="CVIII" id="v-Page_CVIII" />when he found it more difficult to
manage its theologians than to conquer its armies; and at length intrusting to
him the arduous and almost desperate enterprise of presiding over Oxford, and
raising it from its ruins.  And
throughout more than thirty years of the long struggle of the Puritans and
Nonconformists, he was the counsellor and presiding mind, to whom all looked in
the hour of important action and overwhelming difficulty.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p149">Some
have accused Owen and other Nonconformists of his age as too political for
their office.  But who made them
such?  Was it not the men who were
seeking to wrest from them their dearest civil rights, and to make it a crime
to worship God according to their consciences? 
With such base ingenuity of reproach were the Huguenots of France
accused of holding secret meetings, after they had been forbidden to meet in
public.  It was no small part of Owen’s
praise, that he saw and obeyed the necessity of his position; and that perhaps,
of all the Puritans of his age, he was the most quick to “observe the signs of
the times, and to know what Israel ought to do.”  This is the estimate we should be disposed to form from a simple
retrospect of the facts of our narrative; but it appears to have been the
judgment which some of the best of Owen’s contemporaries were not slow to
express.  In that admirable letter to
Baxter from which we have already quoted, referring more particularly to Owen’s
vice-chancellorship, the writer says, “And though his years, piety, principles,
and strait discipline, with the interest he adhered to, affected many of the
heads and students with contempt, envy, and enmity at the first; his personal
worth, obliging deportment, and dexterity in affairs that concerned him in that
station, so mastered all, that the university grew not only content with, but
proud of such a vice-chancellor.  And,
indeed, such were his temper and accomplishments, that whatever station or sort
of men his lot, choice, or interest, should place him in or among, it were no
small wonder that he were not uppermost:— that was his proper sphere, which
those with whom he was concerned generally courted him into, and few envied or
corrived.”<note place="foot" n="171" id="v-p149.1"><p class="footnote" id="v-p150">“Corrived” is an obsolete English word for “rivalled.”</p></note></p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p151">But the
aspect in which we most frequently think of Owen, and from which our highest
estimate of him is formed, is that of a theological writer.  Even the mere material bulk of his works
fills us with surprise; and when we consider the intensely active life which
Owen led, their production strikes us as almost incredible.  In Russell’s editions together with the
edition of his “Exposition” by Wright, his works fill no fewer than
twenty-eight goodly octavo volumes, though we almost sympathize with the
feeling that the folio form, in which many of them originally appeared, more
fitly represents their intellectual stature. 
“Hew down the pyramids,” says Sir James <pb n="CIX" id="v-Page_CIX" />Stephen, with a feeling which every
lover of the old divinity will understand, — “Hew down the pyramids into a
range of streets!  divide Niagara into a
succession of water privileges!  — but
let not the spirits of the mighty dead be thus evoked from their majestic
shrines to animate the dwarfish structures of our bookselling generation.”</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p152">It is
only, however, when we have acquired some considerable familiarity with the
contents of these volumes, and when we remember that on almost every one of the
great controversies, — such as the Arminian, the Socinian, the Popish, and the
Episcopalian, — he has produced works which, after the lapse of nearly two
centuries, are still regarded by unanimous consent as masterpieces on the
themes on which they treat, that we feel unhesitating confidence in placing the
name of Owen among the first names of that age of amazing intellectual
achievement.  In some of his
controversies he had to do with men of inferior ability, of whom it might be
said, as of some of Fuller’s opponents, that “they scarcely served him for a
breakfast;” but in other controversies, such as that with Goodwin on the
perseverance of the saints, he was called to grapple with some of the best and
most accomplished men of his age.  But
he never quailed before any opponent. 
More than one of his works put an end to the controversy by driving his
adversaries to despair; and only once — viz., in his rash encounter with Walton
— did he retire undeniably vanquished from the field.  It is unnecessary to repeat observations that have been made in
the narrative on Owen’s various works; but this seems to be the place at which
to indicate what seem to have been the most distinguishing qualities of Owen as
a theological writer.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p153">Perhaps
no better word could be found to express one of the most striking
characteristics of Owen, than that which Mackintosh has used to describe the
writings of Bentham, — <i>exhaustiveness</i>. 
He goes through his subject “in the length thereof, and in the breadth
thereof.”  It was his custom to read all
the works that had been written on his particular subject, — especially the
writings of opponents, — and then to pass deliberately from point to point of
his theme, and bring the whole concentrated light of Scripture to bear upon its
elucidation and establishment.  He
leaves nothing to be added by one who shall follow in the same path, not even
little gleanings at the corners of the field. 
— We venture to describe another feature of Owen’s works by the phrase,
Theological conservatism.  In an age
remarkable for its intellectual excitement, which gave birth to all manner of
extravagances in opinion, like the ocean in a storm, bringing to the surface
monsters, and hydras, and chimeras dire, and then producing in due season a
reaction into the shallows of Rationalism, Owen displayed no disposition to
change.  There is no writer in whose
opinions throughout life there is more of consistency and unity.  There is everywhere <pb n="CX" id="v-Page_CX" />visible strong intellect and
profound thought; but it is intellect, not sporting itself with novelties, and
expending itself in presumptuous speculation, but reasoning out and defending
what apostles taught, and feeling that there is enough in this to fill an
angel’s grasp.  Various causes combined
to work out this quality in Owen, especially his profound reverence for the
authority of Scripture, leading him to travel over its ample field, but
restraining him from passing beyond it; the influence of the truth upon his own
heart, as a living power writing its divine witness within him; and also his
vast learning, which enabled him to trace opinions to their source, and to
detect in that which the ignorant and half-learned looked upon as a dazzling
discovery, the resurrection of an exploded error, whose only novelty was in its
name.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p154">Allied
to this, and in part accounting for it, was what we would style the devout
Calvinism of Owen’s cast of thought. 
Baxter and he held substantially the same truths, their views, even when
they seemed the most divergent, differing in form and complexion more than in
substance; but still it is evident that the two great men had each his distinct
and favourite standing-point.  With
Baxter, the initial thought was man in need of a great restorative system; and
this led him outwards and upwards, from step to step of the Christian
salvation.  The initial thought with
Owen was God in the past eternity devising a scheme of salvation through a
Mediator; which he unfolded in its wondrous arrangements and provisions from
age to age of the world, and whose glorious results were to continue to be
enjoyed for ever and ever.  This gave a
comprehensiveness and an elevation to Owen’s whole theology, and accounts in
part for the fact that Baxter seems greatest when bearing upon the duties of
the sinner, and calling him to repentance, — “now or never;” while Owen comes
forth in his greatest strength when instructing and building up those who have
already believed.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p155">And this
suggests another of his most remarkable excellencies, — the power, namely, of
bringing the various doctrines of the Christian system, even the most abstruse,
to bear, in the form of motive and consolation, upon the affections and active
powers of our human nature.  Great as
Owen is when we see him as the gigantic polemic, putting forth his intellectual
might in “earnestly contending for the faith once delivered unto the saints;”
we have not seen him in all his greatness until, in such practical works as his
treatise on the “Mortification of Sin in Believers,” he brings the truth into
contact, not so much with the errors of the heretic, as with the corruption and
deceitfulness of the human heart.  Then
we have hesitated which most to admire, — his intimate knowledge of the Word of
God, or his profound acquaintance with the heart of man, or the skill with
which he brings the <pb n="CXI" id="v-Page_CXI" />one into vigorous and healing
action upon the other; while all his great qualities, as the expositor of the
Scriptures, as the defender of the faith, as the profound theologian, and as
the wise practical instructor, have seemed to manifest themselves at once in
single and united greatness, in that noble intellectual pyramid, his
“Exposition of the Epistle to the Hebrews.”</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p156">Yet some
of the excellencies that we have named stand closely connected with Owen’s
chief defect, — which is to be found in his manner, rather than in his
matter.  His wish to exhaust his
particular theme has made him say every thing on a subject that could be said,
and betrayed him into an occasional prolixity and discursiveness, the absence
of which would have made his works far more popular, and far more useful.  He wants <i>perspective</i> in composition,
and does not seem to know the secret of touching on themes, without laboriously
handling them.  This, with an
occasionally involved and parenthetical style, has formed, as we conceive, the
chief barrier to Owen’s yet wider acceptance. 
The sentiment of Dr Vaughan is a just one, that had the fluency and
elegance of Bates been united to the massive thoughts of Owen, we should have
had a near approach to the perfect theological writer.  But let us admit this occasional defect; and
let us even farther concede, that in other qualities he is not equal to others
of the Puritans, — that he is surpassed by Baxter in point and energy, by
Flavel in tenderness, by Howe in majesty, by both the Henrys in proverb and
epigram, by Bates in beautiful similitudes; — still, where shall we find, in
the theological writers of his own or of any age, so much of the accumulated
treasures of a sanctified learning, — of the mind of God clearly elucidated and
invincibly defended, — of profound and massive thought? His works are like a
soil which is literally impregnated with gold, and in which burnished masses of
the virgin ore are sure to reward him who patiently labours in it.</p>
<p class="Body" id="v-p157">John
Owen belonged to a class of men who have risen from age to age in the church,
to represent great principles, and to revive in the church the life of
God.  The supreme authority of the
Scriptures in all matters of religion, — the headship of Christ, — the rights
of conscience, — religion as a thing of spirit, and not of form, resulting from
the personal belief of certain revealed truths, and infallibly manifesting
itself in a holy life, — the church as a society distinct from the world; —
these principles, often contended for in flames and blood, were the essence of
that Puritanism which found one of its noblest examples in Owen.  Puritanism, it has been finely said, was the
feeling of which Protestantism was the argument.  But even then, it was an old spirit under a new name, which, heaven-enkindled,
has ever borne the two marks of its celestial origin, in blessing the world and
<pb n="CXII" id="v-Page_CXII" />being persecuted by it.  It was the spirit which breathed in the
Lollards of Germany; in the Hussites of Bohemia, — in those saints, who</p>
<verse id="v-p157.1">
<l id="v-p157.2">“On the Alpine mountains cold,</l>
<l id="v-p157.3">Kept God’s truth so pure of old,</l>
<l id="v-p157.4">When all our fathers worshipp’d
stocks and stones;”</l>
</verse>
<p class="Body" id="v-p158">in the
Huguenots of France; and in the stern Scottish Covenanters; — and which God has
sometimes sent down since, like a benignant angel, when the church at any time
has begun to stagnate in a cold orthodoxy, to trouble the waters of the
sanctuary, that the lame might be healed. 
It is a spirit which the inert orthodoxy and the superficial evangelism
of the church even now greatly needs to have breathed into it from heaven.  And the laborious and prayerful study of the
writings of the Puritans might do much to restore it.  Only let the same truths be believed with the same faith, and
they will produce the same men, and accomplish the same intellectual and moral
miracles.  A due appreciation of the
most pressing wants of our age, and a timely discernment of its most serious
perils, would draw from us the prayer which is said to have once escaped the
lips even of the cold and calculating Erasmus, — “<span lang="LA" id="v-p158.1">O,
sit anima mea cum Puritanis Anglicanis</span>!”</p>
</div1>

<div1 title="Appendix to the Life of Dr Owen" shorttitle="" progress="89.30%" prev="v" next="vi.i" id="vi">
<pb n="CXIII" id="vi-Page_CXIII" />
<h1 id="vi-p0.1">Appendix to the Life of
Dr Owen</h1>

<div2 title="Epitaph on his Monument" shorttitle="" progress="89.31%" prev="vi" next="vi.i.i" id="vi.i">
<h2 id="vi.i-p0.1">Epitaph on his Monument</h2>

<div3 title="Epitaph inscribed on the Monument to Dr Owen in Bunhill-fields" shorttitle="" progress="89.32%" prev="vi.i" next="vi.i.ii" id="vi.i.i">
<h3 id="vi.i.i-p0.1"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.i.i-p0.2">Epitaph</span> inscribed on the Monument of <span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.i.i-p0.3">Dr Owen</span> in Bunhill-fields</h3>
<p class="Body" style="text-align:center" id="vi.i.i-p1"><note place="foot" n="172" id="vi.i.i-p1.1"><p class="footnote" id="vi.i.i-p2">This inscription is engraven on his tombstone.</p></note><span lang="LA" id="vi.i.i-p2.1"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.i.i-p2.2">Johannes
Owen</span>, S. T. P.<br />
Agro Oxoniensi Oriundus;<br />
Patre insigni Theologo Theologus Ipse Insignior;<br />
Et Seculi hujus Insignissimis annumerandus:<br />
Communibus Humaniorum Literarum Suppetiis,<br />
Mensura parum Communi, Instructus;<br />
Omnibus, quasi bene Ordinata Ancillarum Serie,<br />
Ab illo jussis Suæ Famulari Theolgiæ:<br />
Theologiæ Polemicæ, Practicæ, &amp;, quam vocant, Casuum<br />
(Harum enim Omnium, quæ magis Sua habenda erat, ambigitur)<br />
In illa, Viribus plusquam Herculeis, Serpentibus tribus,<br />
Arminio, Socino, Cano, Venenosa Strinxit Guttera:<br />
In ista, Suo prior, ad Verbi Amussim, Expertus Pectore,<br />
Universam, Sp. S<sup>cti.</sup> Œconomiam Aliis tradidit:<br />
Et missis Cæteris, Coluit Ipse, Sensitque,<br />
Beatam, quam Scripsit, cum Deo Communionem:<br />
In Terris Viator comprehensori in Cœlis proximus:<br />
In Casuum Theologia, Singulis Oraculi instar habitus;<br />
Quibus Opus erat, &amp; Copia, Consulendi:<br />
Scriba ad Regnum Cœlorum usquequoque Institutus;<br />
Multis privatos infra Parietes, à Suggesto Pluribus,<br />
A Prelo Omnibus, ad eundem Scopum collineantibus,<br />
Pura Doctrinæ Evangelicæ Lampas Præluxit;<br />
Et sensim, no sine aliorum, suoque sensu,<br />
Sic prælucendo Periit,<br />
Assiduis Infirmitatibus Obsiti,<br />
Morbis Creberrimis Impetiti,<br />
Durisque Laboribus potissimum Attriti, Corporis<br />
(Fabricæ, donec ita Quassatæ, Spectabilis) Ruinas,<br />
Deo ultrà Serviendo inhabiles, Sancta Anima,<br />
Deo ultrà Fruendi Cupida, Deseruit;<br />
<pb n="CXIV" id="vi.i.i-Page_CXIV" />Die, à Terrenis Potestatibus,
Plurimis facto Fatali;<br />
Illi, à Cœlesti Numine, Felici reddito;</span></p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align:center" id="vi.i.i-p3"><span lang="LA" id="vi.i.i-p3.1">Mensis
Scilicet Augusti XXIVº.  Anno à Partu
Virgineo.<br />
MDCLXXXIIIº, Ætat. LXVIIº.</span></p>
</div3>

<div3 title="Translation" shorttitle="" progress="89.87%" prev="vi.i.i" next="vi.ii" id="vi.i.ii">
<h3 id="vi.i.ii-p0.1">Translation</h3>
<p class="Body" id="vi.i.ii-p1">John
Owen, D.D., born in the county of Oxford, the son of an eminent minister,
himself more eminent, and worthy to be enrolled among the first divines of the
age; furnished with human literature in all its kinds, and in its highest
degrees, he called forth all his knowledge in an orderly train to serve the
interests of religion, and minister in the sanctuary of his God.  In divinity, practic, polemic, and
casuistical, he excelled others, and was in all equal to himself.  The <i>Arminian, Socinian</i>, and <i>Popish</i>
errors, those <i>hydras</i>, whose contaminated breath and deadly poison
infested the church, he, with more than <i>Herculean</i> labour, repulsed,
vanquished, and destroyed.  The whole
economy of redeeming grace, revealed and applied by the Holy Spirit, he deeply
investigated, and communicated to others, having first felt its divine energy,
according to its draught in the holy Scriptures, transfused into his own
bosom.  Superior to all terrene
pursuits, he constantly cherished, and largely experienced, that blissful
communion with Deity he so admirably describes in his writings.  While on the road to heaven, his elevated
mind almost comprehended its full glories and joys.  When he was consulted on cases of conscience, his resolutions
contained the wisdom of an oracle.  He
was a scribe every way instructed in the mysteries of the kingdom of God.  In conversation he held up to <i>many</i>,
in his public discourses to <i>more</i>, in his publications from the press to <i>all</i>,
who were set out for the celestial <i>Zion</i>, the effulgent lamp of
evangelical truth, to guide their steps to immortal glory.  While he was thus diffusing his divine
light, with his own inward sensations, and the observations of his afflicted
friends, his earthly tabernacle gradually decayed, till at length his
deeply-sanctified soul, longing for the fruition of its God, quitted the
body.  In younger age, a most comely and
majestic form; but in the latter stages of life, depressed by constant
infirmities, emaciated with frequent diseases, and above all crushed under the
weight of intense and unremitting studies, it became an incommodious mansion
for the vigorous exertions of the spirit in the service of its God.  He left the world on a day dreadful to the
church by the cruelties of men, but blissful to himself by the plaudits of his
God, August 24, 1683, aged 67. — <i>Translated by Dr Gibbons.</i></p>
</div3>
</div2>

<div2 title="Some letters" shorttitle="" progress="90.66%" prev="vi.i.ii" next="vi.ii.i" id="vi.ii">
<h2 id="vi.ii-p0.1">Some Letters</h2>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii-p1">The
following <span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii-p1.1">Letters</span> embrace all the
Correspondence of <span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii-p1.2">Dr Owen</span> which
has been preserved, and is of any importance:—</p>

<div3 title="To M. Du Moulin" shorttitle="" progress="90.70%" prev="vi.ii" next="vi.ii.ii" id="vi.ii.i">
<h3 id="vi.ii.i-p0.1">To M. Du Moulin</h3>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.i-p1"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.i-p1.1">Sir</span>,
— I have received your strictures upon our Confession, wherein you charge it
with palpable contradiction, nonsense, enthusiasm, and false doctrine, — that
is, all the evils that can be crowded into such a writing; and I understand, by
another letter since, that you have sent the same paper to others, — which is
the sole cause of the return which I now make to you; and I beg your pardon in
telling you, that <pb n="CXV" id="vi.ii.i-Page_CXV" />all your instances are your own
mistakes, or the mistakes of your friend, as I shall briefly manifest to you.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.i-p2">First,
you say there is a plain contradiction between chap. iii. art. 6, and chap.
xxx. art. 2.  In the first place it is
said, “None but the elect are redeemed;” but in the other it is said, “The
sacrament is a memorial of the one offering of Christ upon the cross for
all.”  I do admire to find this charged
by you as a contradiction; for you know full well that all our divines who
maintain that the elect only were redeemed effectually by Christ, do yet grant
that Christ died for all, in the Scripture sense of the word, — that is, some
of all sorts, — and never dreamt of any contradiction in their assertion.  But your mistake is worse; for in chap. xxx.
art. 2, which you refer to, there is not one word mentioned of Christ’s dying
for all; but that the sacrifice which he offered was offered once for all, —
which is the expression of the apostle, to intimate that it was but once
offered, in opposition to the frequent repetitions of the sacrifices of the
Jews.  And pray, if you go on in your
translation, do not fall into a mistake upon it; for in the very close of the
article it is said, “That Christ’s only sacrifice was a propitiation for the
sins of all the elect.”  The words you
urge out of <scripRef passage="2 Pet. ii. 1" id="vi.ii.i-p2.1" parsed="|2Pet|2|1|0|0" osisRef="Bible:2Pet.2.1">2 Pet. ii. 1</scripRef>, are not in the text: they are, by
your quotation, “Denied him that had redeemed them;” but it is, “Denied the
sovereign Lord which had bought them;” — which words have quite another sense.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.i-p3">Something
you quote out of chap. vi. art. 6, where I think you suppose we do not
distinguish between the “<span lang="LA" id="vi.ii.i-p3.1">reatus</span>” and “<span lang="LA" id="vi.ii.i-p3.2">macula</span>” of sin; and do think that we grant the defilement of Adam’s
person, and consequently of all intermediate propagations, to be imputed unto us.  Pray, sir, give me leave to say, that I
cannot but think your mind was employed about other things when you dreamt of
our being guilty of such a folly and madness; neither is there any one word in
the Confession which gives countenance unto it.  If you would throw away so much time as to read any part of my
late discourse about justification, it is not unlikely but that you would see
something of the nature of the guilt of sin, and the imputation of it, which
may give you satisfaction.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.i-p4">In your
next instance, which you refer unto chap. xix. art. 3, by some mistake (there
being nothing to the purpose in that place), you say, “It is presupposed that
some who have attained age may be elected, and yet have not the knowledge of
Jesus Christ; which is a pure enthusiasm, and is contrary to chap. xx. art.
2.”  Why, sir!  that many who are eternally elected, and yet for some season —
some less, some longer — do live without the knowledge of Christ, until they
are converted by the Word and Spirit, is not an enthusiasm; but your exception
is contrary to the whole Scripture, contrary to the experience of all days and
ages, overthrows the work of the ministry, and is so absurd to sense, and
reason, and daily experience, that I know not what to say to it; only, I confess
that if, with some of the Arminians, you do not believe that any are elected
from eternity, or before they do actually believe, something may be spoken to
countenance your exception: but that we cannot regard, for it was our design to
oppose all their errors.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.i-p5">Your
next instance is a plain charge of false doctrine, taken out of chap. xi. art.
1, speaking, as you say, of the active obedience of Christ imputed to us, which
is contrary to art. 3, where it is said that Christ acquits by his obedience in
death, and not by his fulfilling of the law. 
Sir, you still give me cause of some new admiration in all these
objections, and I fear you make use of some corrupt copy of our Confession; —
for we say not, as you allege, that Christ by his obedience in death did acquit
us, and not by his fulfilling of the law; but we say that Christ, by his
obedience and death, did fully discharge the debt of all those who are
justified, — which comprehends both his active and passive righteousness.  But you add a reason, whereby you design to
disprove this doctrine of our concerning the imputation <pb n="CXVI" id="vi.ii.i-Page_CXVI" />of the active righteousness of
Christ unto our justification.  Why, you
say, it is contrary to reason; for that we are freed from satisfying God’s
justice by being punished by death, but not from the fulfilling of the law:
therefore the fulfilling of the law by Christ is no satisfaction for us, — we
are not freed from active obedience, but from passive obedience.  Pray, sir, do not mistake that such mistaken
reasonings can give us any occasion to change our judgments in an article of
truth of this importance.  When you
shall have been pleased to read my book of Justification, and have answered
solidly what I have written upon this subject, I will tell you more of my
mind.  In the meantime I tell you, we
are by the death of Christ freed from all sufferings as they are purely penal,
and the effect of the curse, though they spring out of that root; only, sir,
you and I know full well that we are not freed from pains, afflictions, and death
itself, — which had never been, had they not proceeded from the curse of the
law.  And so, sir, by the obedience of
Christ we are freed from obedience to the law, as to justification by the works
thereof.  We are no more obliged to obey
the law in order to justification than we are obliged to undergo the penalties
of the law to answer its curse.  But
these things have been fully debated elsewhere.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.i-p6">In the
last place, your friend wishes it could be avoided, and declined to speak any
thing about universal grace, for that it would raise some or most divines
against it.  I judge myself beholden to
your friend for the advice, which I presume he judges to be good and wholesome;
but I beg your pardon that I cannot comply with it, although I shall not
reflect with any severity upon them who are of another judgment; and, to tell
you the truth, the immethodical new method introduced to give countenance to
universal grace, is, in my judgment, suited to draw us off from all due
conceptions concerning the grace of God in Jesus Christ; which I shall not now
stay to demonstrate, though I will not decline the undertaking of it, if God
gives me strength, at any time.  And I
do wonder to hear you say that many, if not most divines, will rise against it,
who have published in print that there were but two in England that were of
that opinion, and have strenuously opposed it yourself.  How things are in France, I know not; but at
Geneva, in Holland, in Switzerland, in all the Protestant churches of Germany,
I do know that this universal grace is exploded.  Sir, I shall trouble you no farther.  I pray be pleased to accept of my desire to undeceive you in
those things, wherein either a corrupt copy of our Confession or the reasonings
of other men have given you so many mistaken conceptions about our
Confession.  — I am, Sir, yours,</p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align:right" id="vi.ii.i-p7"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.i-p7.1">J. Owen.</span></p>
</div3>

<div3 title="To the Lady Hartopp" shorttitle="" progress="93.15%" prev="vi.ii.i" next="vi.ii.iii" id="vi.ii.ii">
<h3 id="vi.ii.ii-p0.1">To the Lady Hartopp</h3>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.ii-p1"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.ii-p1.1">Dear Madam</span>, — Every work of God is good; the Holy One in the midst of us
will do no iniquity; and all things shall work together for good unto them that
love him, even those things which at present are not joyous, but grievous; only
his time is to be waited for, and his way submitted unto, that we seem not to
be displeased in our hearts that he is Lord over us.  Your dear infant is in the eternal enjoyment of the fruits of all
our prayers; for the covenant of God is ordered in all things, and sure.  We shall go to her; she shall not return to
us.  Happy she was in this above us,
that she had so speedy an issue of sin and misery, being born only to exercise
your faith and patience, and to glorify God’s grace in her eternal
blessedness.  My trouble would be great
on the account of my absence at this time from you both, but that this also is
the Lord’s doing; and I know my own uselessness wherever I am.  But this I will beg of God for you both that
you may not faint in this day of trial, — that you may have a clear view of
those spiritual <pb n="CXVII" id="vi.ii.ii-Page_CXVII" />and temporal mercies wherewith you
are yet intrusted (all undeserved), — that sorrow of the world may not so
overtake your hearts as to disenable to any duties, to grieve the Spirit, to
prejudice your lives; for it tends to death. 
God in Christ will be better to you than ten children, and will so
preserve your remnant, and to add to them, as shall be for his glory and your
comfort.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.ii-p2">Only
consider that sorrow in this case is no duty, it is an effect of sin, whose
cure by grace we should endeavour. 
Shall I say, Be cheerful?  I know
I may.  God help you to honour grace and
mercy in a compliance therewith.  My
heart is with you, my prayers shall be for you, and I am, dear madam, your most
affectionate friend and unworthy pastor,</p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align:right" id="vi.ii.ii-p3"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.ii-p3.1">J. Owen.</span></p>
</div3>

<div3 title="To Mrs Polhill" shorttitle="" progress="93.75%" prev="vi.ii.ii" next="vi.ii.iv" id="vi.ii.iii">
<h3 id="vi.ii.iii-p0.1">To Mrs Polhill</h3>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.iii-p1"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.iii-p1.1">Dear Madam</span>, — The trouble expressed in yours is a great addition to mine;
the sovereignty of divine wisdom and grace is all that I have at this day to
retreat unto; God direct you thereunto also, and you will find rest and
peace.  It adds to my trouble that I
cannot possibly come down to you this week. 
Nothing but engaged duty could keep me from you one hour: yet I am
conscious how little I can contribute to your guidance in this storm, or your
satisfaction.  Christ is your pilot; and
however the vessel if tossed whilst he seems to sleep, he will arise and rebuke
these winds and waves in his own time. 
I have done it, and yet shall farther wrestle with God for you,
according to the strength he is pleased to communicate.  Little it is which at this distance I can
mind you of; yet some few things are necessary.  Sorrow not too much for the dead: she is entered into rest, and
is taken away from the evil to come. 
Take heed lest, by too much grief, you too much grieve that Holy Spirit,
who is infinitely more to us than all natural relations.  I blame you not that you so far attend to
the call of God in this dispensation as to search yourself, to judge and
condemn yourself: grace can make it an evidence to you that you shall not be
judged or condemned of the Lord.  I dare
not say that this chastisement was not needful.  We are not in heaviness unless need be; but if God be pleased to
give you a discovery of the wisdom and care that is in it, and how needful it
was to awaken and restore your soul in any thing, perhaps in many things, in
due time you will see grace and love in it also.  I verily believe God expects, in this dealing with you, that you
should judge yourself, your sins and your decays; but he would not have you
misjudge your condition.  But we are
like froward children, who, when they are rebuked and corrected, neglect other
things, and only cry that their parents hate and reject them.  You are apt to fear, to think and say, that
you are one whom God regards not, who are none of his; and that for sundry
reasons which you suppose you can plead. 
But, saith God, this is not the business; this is a part of your
frowardness.  I call you to quicken your
grace, to amend your own ways; and you think you have nothing to do but to
question my love.  Pray, madam, my dear
sister, child and care, beware you lose not the advantage of this dispensation;
you will do so, if you use it only to afflictive sorrows, or questioning of the
love of God, or your interest in Christ.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.iii-p2">The time
will be spent in these things which should be taken up in earnest endeavours
after a compliance with God’s will, quickenings of grace, returns after
backsliding, mortification of sin and love of the world, until the sense of it
do pass away.  Labour vigorously to
bring your soul to this twofold resolution:— 1.  That the will of God is the best rule for all things, and their
circumstances.  2.  That you will bring yourself into a fresh
engagement to live more to him: and you will find the reminder of your work
easy; for it is part of the yoke of Christ. 
I shall trouble you no farther but only to give you the assurance that
you are in <pb n="CXVIII" id="vi.ii.iii-Page_CXVIII" />my heart continually, which is
nothing; but it helps to persuade me that you are in the heart of Christ, which
is all.  — I am, dear madam, your very
affectionate servant,</p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align:right" id="vi.ii.iii-p3"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.iii-p3.1">J. Owen.</span></p>
</div3>

<div3 title="To Charles Fleetwood, Esq." shorttitle="" progress="94.86%" prev="vi.ii.iii" next="vi.ii.v" id="vi.ii.iv">
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.iv-p1" />
<h3 id="vi.ii.iv-p1.1">To Charles Fleetwood,
Esq.</h3>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.iv-p2"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.iv-p2.1">Dear Sir</span>, — I received yours and am glad to hear of your welfare.  There is more then ordinary mercy in every
day’s preservation.  My wife, I bless
God, is much revived, so that I do not despair of her recovery; but for myself,
I have been under the power of various distempers for fourteen days past, and
do yet so continue.  God is fastening
his instruction concerning the approach of that season wherein I must lay down
this tabernacle.  I think my mind has
been too much intent upon some things which I looked on as services for the
church; but God will have us know that he has no need of me nor them, and is
therefore calling me off from them. 
Help me with your prayers, that I may, through the riches of his grace
in Christ, be in some measure ready for my account.  The truth is, we cannot see the latter rain in its season, as we
have seen the former, and a latter spring thereon.  Death, that will turn in the streams of glory upon our poor
withering souls, is the best relief.  I
begin to fear that we shall die in this wilderness; yet ought we to labour and
pray continually that the heavens would drop down from above, and the skies
pour down righteousness, — that the earth may open and bring forth salvation,
and that righteousness may spring up together. 
If ever I return to you in this world, I beseech you to contend yet more
earnestly than ever I have done, with God, with my own heart, with the church,
to labour after spiritual revivals.  Our
affectionate service to your lady, and to all your family that are of the
household of God.  — I am, dearest sir,
yours most affectionately whilst I live,</p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align:right" id="vi.ii.iv-p3"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.iv-p3.1">J. Owen.</span></p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.iv-p4">Stadham,
<i>July</i> 8.</p>
</div3>

<div3 title="To Charles Fleetwood, Esq." shorttitle="" progress="95.42%" prev="vi.ii.iv" next="vi.ii.vi" id="vi.ii.v">
<h3 id="vi.ii.v-p0.1">To Charles Fleetwood,
Esq.</h3>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.v-p1"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.v-p1.1">Dear Sir</span>, — The bearer has stayed long enough with us to save you the
trouble of reading an account of me in my own scribbling: a longer stay I could
not prevail with him for, though his company was a great refreshment to
me.  Both you and your whole family, in
all their occasions and circumstances, are daily in my thoughts; and when I am
enabled to pray, I make mention of you all without ceasing.  I find you and I are much in
complaining.  For my part I must say,
And is there not a cause?  So much
deadness, so much unspirituality, so much weakness in faith, coldness in love,
instability in holy meditations, as I find in myself, is cause sufficient of
complaints.  But is there not cause also
of thanksgiving and joy in the Lord? 
Are there not reasons for them? 
When I begin to think of them, I am overwhelmed; they are great, they
are glorious, they are inexpressible. 
Shall I now invite you to this great duty of rejoicing more in the
Lord?  Pray for me, that I may do so;
for the near approach of my dissolution calls for it earnestly.  My heart has done with this world, even in
the best and most desirable of its refreshments.  If the joy of the Lord be not now strength unto it, it will
fail.  But I must have done.  Unless God be pleased to affect some person
or persons with a deep sense of our declining condition, of the temptations and
dangers of the day, filling them with compassion for the souls of men, making
them fervent in spirit in their work, it will go but ill with us.  It may be these thoughts spring from
causeless fears, it may be none amongst us has an evil, a barren heart but
myself: but bear with me in this my folly; I cannot lay down these thoughts
until I die; nor do I mention them at present as though I should <pb n="CXIX" id="vi.ii.v-Page_CXIX" />not esteem it a great mercy to have so able a supply as Mr C., but
I am groaning after deliverance; and being near the centre, do hope I feel the
drawing of the love of Christ with more earnestness than formerly: but my
naughty heart is backward in these compliances.  My affectionate service to Sir John Hartopp, and his lady, and to
the rest of your family, when God shall return them unto you.  — I am, dear sir, yours most affectionately
in everlasting bonds,</p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align:right" id="vi.ii.v-p2"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.v-p2.1">J. Owen</span>.</p>
</div3>

<div3 title="To the Rev. Mr Robert Asty of Norwich" shorttitle="" progress="96.16%" prev="vi.ii.v" next="vi.ii.vii" id="vi.ii.vi">
<h3 id="vi.ii.vi-p0.1">To the Rev. Mr Robert
Asty of Norwich</h3>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vi-p1"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.vi-p1.1">Dear Sir</span>, — I received yours by Mr B., to whom I shall commit this return,
and hope it will come safely to your hands; for although I can acknowledge
nothing of what you are pleased out of your love to ascribe unto me, yet I
shall be always ready to give you my thoughts in the way of brotherly advice,
whenever you shall stand in need of it: and at present, as things are
circumstanced, I do not see how you can waive or decline the call of the church
either in conscience or reputation. 
For, to begin with the latter; should you do so upon the most Christian
and cogent grounds in your own apprehensions, yet wrong interpretations will be
put upon it; and so far as it is possible we ought to keep ourselves, not only
“<span lang="LA" id="vi.ii.vi-p1.2">extra noxam</span>,” but “<span lang="LA" id="vi.ii.vi-p1.3">suspicionem</span>” also.  But the point of
conscience is of more moment.  All
things concurring, — the providence of God in bringing you to that place, the
judgment of the church on your gifts and grace for their edification and
example, the joint consent of the body of the congregation in your call, with
present circumstances of a singular opportunity for preaching the word, I
confess at this distance I see not how you can discharge that duty you owe to
Jesus Christ (whose you are, and not your own, and must rejoice to be what he
will have you to be, be it more or less) in refusing a compliance unto these
manifest indications of his pleasure; only, remember that you sit down and
count what it will cost you, — which I know you will not be discouraged by; for
the daily exercise of grace and learning of wisdom should not be grievous unto
us, though some of their occasions may be irksome.  For the latter part of your letter, I know no difference between
a pastor and a teacher but what follows their different gifts; — the office is
absolutely the same in both; the power the same, the right to the
administration of all ordinances every way the same: and at that great church
at Boston, in New England, the teacher was always the principal person; so was
Mr Cotton and Mr Norton.  Where gifts
make a difference, there is a difference; otherwise there is none.  I pray God guide you in this great affair;
and I beg your prayers for myself in my weak, infirm condition.  — I am your affectionate friend and brother,</p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align:right" id="vi.ii.vi-p2"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.vi-p2.1">J. Owen.</span></p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vi-p3">London, <i>March</i>
16.</p>
</div3>

<div3 title="To Mr Baxter" shorttitle="" progress="96.93%" prev="vi.ii.vi" next="vi.iii" id="vi.ii.vii">
<h3 id="vi.ii.vii-p0.1">To Mr Baxter</h3>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p1"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.vii-p1.1">Sir</span>,
— The continuance of my cold, which yet holds me, with the severity of the
weather, have hitherto hindered me from answering my purpose of coming unto you
at Acton; but yet I hope, ere long, to obtain the advantage of enjoying your
company there for a season.  In the
meantime, I return you my thanks for the communication of your papers; and
shall on every occasion manifest that you have no occasion to question whether
I were in earnest in what I proposed, in reference to the concord you
design.  For the desire of it is
continually upon my heart; and to express that desire on all occasion, I esteem
one part of that profession of the Gospel which I am called unto.  Could I contribute any thing towards <pb n="CXX" id="vi.ii.vii-Page_CXX" />the accomplishment of so holy, so necessary a work, I should
willingly spend myself and be spent in it. 
For what you design concerning your present essay, I like it very well,
both upon the reasons you mention in your letter, as also that all those who
may be willing and desirous to promote so blessed a work may have copies by
them, to prepare their thoughts in reference to the whole.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p2">For the
present, upon the liberty granted in your letter (if I remember it aright), I
shall tender you a few queries, which, if they are useless or needless, deal
with them accordingly.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p3">As, —
1.  Are not the several proposed or
insisted on too many for this first attempt? 
The general heads, I conceive, are not; but under them very many
particulars are not only included, which is unavoidable, but expressed also
which may too much dilate the original consideration of the whole.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p4">2.  You expressly exclude the Papists, who will
also sure enough exclude themselves, and do, from any such agreement; but have
you done the same as to the Socinians, who are numerous, and ready to include
themselves upon our communion?  The
Creed, as expounded in the four first councils, will do it.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p5">3.  Whether some expressions suited to prevent
future divisions and separations, after a concord is obtained, may not at
present, to avoid all exasperation, be omitted, as seeming reflective on former
actings, when there was no such agreement among us as is now aimed at?</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p6">4.  Whether insisting in particular on the power
of the magistrate, especially as under civil coercion and punishment in cases
of error or heresy, be necessary in this first attempt?  These generals occurred to my thoughts upon
my first reading of your proposals.  I
will now read them again, and set down, as I pass on, such apprehensions in
particular as I have of the several of them.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p7">To the
first answer, under the first question, I assent; so also to the first
proposal, and the explanation; likewise to the second and third.  I thought to have proceeded thus throughout,
but I foresee my so doing would be tedious and useless; I shall therefore
mention only what at present may seem to require second thoughts.  As, —</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p8">1.  To propos. 9, by those instances [what words
to use in preaching, in what words to pray, in what decent habit] do you intend
homilies, prescribed forms of prayer, and habits superadded to those of vulgar
decent use?  Present controversies will
suggest an especial sense under general expressions.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p9">2.  Under pos. 13, do you think a man may not
leave a church and join himself to another, unless it be for such a cause or
reason as he supposes sufficient to destroy the being of the church?  I meet with this now answered in your 18<sup>th</sup>
propos., and so shall forbear farther particular remarks, and pass on.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p10">In your
answer to the second question, your 10<sup>th</sup> position hath in it
somewhat that will admit of farther consideration, as I think.  In your answer to the third question, have
you sufficiently expressed the accountableness of churches mutually, in case of
offence from maladministration and church censures?  This also I now see in part answered, — proposition fifth.  I shall forbear to add any thing as under
your answer to the last question, about the power of the magistrate, because I
fear that in that matter of punishing I shall somewhat dissent from you, though
as to mere coercion I shall in some cases agree.</p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p11">Upon the
whole matter, I judge your proposals worthy of great consideration, and the
most probable medium for the attaining of the end aimed at that yet I have
perused.  If God give not a heart and
mind to desire peace and union, every expression will be disputed, under
pretence of truth and accuracy; but if these things have a place in us
answerable to that which they enjoy in the Gospel, I see no reason why all the
true disciples of Christ might not, upon these and the like principles,
condescend in love unto the practical concord and agreement, which <pb n="CXXI" id="vi.ii.vii-Page_CXXI" />not one of them dare deny to be their duty to aim at.  Sir, I shall pray that the Lord would guide
and prosper you in all studies and endeavours for the service of Christ in the
world, especially in this your desire and study for the introducing of the
peace and love promised amongst them that believe, and do beg your prayers.  — Your truly affectionate brother, and
unworthy fellow-servant,</p>
<p class="Body" style="text-align:right" id="vi.ii.vii-p12"><span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.ii.vii-p12.1">John Owen.</span></p>
<p class="Body" id="vi.ii.vii-p13"><i>Jan</i>. 26, 1668.</p>
</div3>
</div2>

<div2 title="His Works" shorttitle="" progress="98.62%" prev="vi.ii.vii" next="vii" id="vi.iii">
<h2 id="vi.iii-p0.1">His Works</h2>
<p class="Body" id="vi.iii-p1">A List
of <span style="font-variant:small-caps" id="vi.iii-p1.1">Dr Owen’s Works</span>, according to
the years in which they appear to have been published.</p>
<p class="Normal" id="vi.iii-p2">Display of Arminianism, 4to, 1642<br />
The Duty of Pastors and People Distinguished, 4to, 1643<br />
The Principles of the Doctrine of Christ, in two Catechisms, 12mo, 1645<br />
A Vision of Unchangeable Mercy: a Sermon, 4to, 1646<br />
Eshcol; or, Rules for Church Fellowship, 12mo, 1647<br />
<span lang="LA" id="vi.iii-p2.6">Salus Electorum</span>: a treatise on Redemption, 4to, 1648<br />
Memorial of the Deliverance of Essex: two Sermons, 4to, 1648<br />
Righteous Zeal — a Sermon; and Essay on Toleration, 4to, 1649<br />
The Shaking and Translating of Heaven and Earth: a sermon, 4to, 1649<br />
Human Power Defeated: a Sermon, 4to, 1649<br />
Of the Death of Christ, in answer to Baxter, 4to, 1650<br />
The Steadfastness of Promises: a Sermon, 4to, 1650<br />
The Branch of the Lord: two Sermons, 4to, 1650<br />
The Advantage of the Kingdom of Christ: a sermon, 4to, 1651<br />
The Labouring Saint’s Dismission: a Sermon, 4to, 1652<br />
Christ’s Kingdom and the Magistrate’s Power: a Sermon, 4to, 1652<br />
<span lang="LA" id="vi.iii-p2.18">De Divina Justitia</span>: translated 1794, 12mo, 1653<br />
The Doctrine of the Saints’ Perseverance, folio, 1654<br />
<span lang="LA" id="vi.iii-p2.21">Vindicæ Evangelicæ</span>: Reply to Biddle, 4to, 1655<br />
On the Mortification of Sin, 8vo, 1656<br />
Review of the Annotations of Grotius, 4to, 1656<br />
God’s Work in Founding Zion: a Sermon, 4to, 1656<br />
God’s Presence with his People: a Sermon, 4to, 1656<br />
On Communion with God, 4to, 1657<br />
A Discovery of the True Nature of Schism, 12mo, 1657<br />
A Review of the True Nature of Schism, 12mo, 1657<br />
Answer to Cawdrey about Schism, 12mo, 1658<br />
Of the Nature and Power of Temptation, 12mo, 1658<br />
The Divine Original of the Scriptures, 12mo, 1659<br />
Vindication of the Hebrew and Greek Texts, 12mo, 1659<br />
<span lang="LA" id="vi.iii-p2.34">Exercitationes adversus Fanaticos</span>, 12mo, 1659<br />
The Glory of Nations professing the Gospel: a Sermon, 4to, 1659<br />
On the Power of the Magistrate about Religion, 4to, 1659<br />
A Primer for Children, 12mo, 1660<br />
<span lang="EL" class="Greek" id="vi.iii-p2.39">ΘΟΛΟΓΟΥΜΕΝΑ ΠΑΝΤΟΔΑΠΑ</span>, 4to, 1661<br />
Animadversions on <span lang="LA" id="vi.iii-p2.41">Fiat
Lux</span>, 12mo, 1662<br />
<pb n="CXXII" id="vi.iii-Page_CXXII" />A Discourse on Liturgies, 4to, 1662<br />
Vindication of the Animadversions, 8vo, 1664<br />
Indulgence and Toleration Considered, 4to, 1667<br />
A Peace-offering, or Plea for Indulgence, 4to, 1667<br />
Brief Instruction in the Worship of God: a Catechism, 12mo, 1667<br />
On Indwelling Sin, 8vo, 1668<br />
Exposition of the 130<sup>th</sup> Psalm, 4to, 1668<br />
Exposition of the Epistle to the Hebrews, vol. i., folio, 1668<br />
Vindication of the Doctrine of the Trinity, 12mo, 1669<br />
Truth and Innocence Vindicated, 8vo, 1669<br />
On the Divine Institution of the Lord’s Day, 8vo, 1671<br />
On Evangelical Love, 8vo, 1672<br />
Vindication of the Work on Communion, 12mo, 1674<br />
Discourse on the Holy Spirit, folio, 1674<br />
Exposition of the Hebrews, vol. ii., folio, 1674<br />
How we may Bring our Hearts to Bear Reproof, 4to, 1674<br />
On the Nature of Apostasy, 8vo, 1676<br />
The Reason of Faith, 8vo, 1677<br />
On the Doctrine of Justification, 4to, 1677<br />
The Ways and Means of Understanding the Mind of God, 8vo, 1678<br />
<span lang="EL" class="Greek" id="vi.iii-p2.63">ΧΡΙΣΤΟΛΟΓΙΑ</span>, or the Person of Christ, 4to, 1679<br />
The Church of Rome no Safe Guide, 4to, 1679<br />
On Union among Protestants, 4to, 1680<br />
Vindication of the Nonconformists, 4to, 1680<br />
Exposition of the Hebrews, vol. iii., folio, 1680<br />
Defence of the Vindication, 4to, 1681<br />
Inquiry into Evangelical Churches, 4to, 1681<br />
Humble Testimony, 8vo, 1681<br />
On Spiritual-mindedness, 4to, 1681<br />
The Work of the Holy Spirit in Prayer, 4to, 1682<br />
The Chamber of Imagery, 4to, 1682<br />
An Account of the Protestant Religion, 4to, 1683<br />
Meditations on the Glory of Christ, part i., 8vo, 1684<br />
Exposition of the Hebrews, vol. iv., folio, 1684<br />
Of the Dominion of Sin and Grace, 8vo, 1688<br />
True Nature of a Gospel Church, 4to, 1689<br />
Meditations on the Glory of Christ, part ii., 8vo, 1691<br />
Two Discourses on the Work of the Spirit, 8vo, 1693<br />
Evidences of the Faith of God’s Elect, 8vo, 1695<br />
Seventeen Sermons, 2 vols., 8vo, 1720<br />
An Answer to Two Questions; with Twelve Arguments against any Conformity to
Worship not of Divine Institution, 8vo, 1720<br />
Sermons and Tracts, folio, 1721<br />
Thirteen Sermons, 8vo, 1756<br />
Twenty-five Discourses suitable to the Lord’s Supper, 12mo, 1760</p>
</div2>
</div1>


<div1 title="Indexes" progress="99.95%" prev="vi.iii" next="vii.i" id="vii">
<h1 id="vii-p0.1">Indexes</h1>

<div2 title="Index of Scripture References" progress="99.95%" prev="vii" next="vii.ii" id="vii.i">
  <h2 id="vii.i-p0.1">Index of Scripture References</h2>
  <insertIndex type="scripRef" id="vii.i-p0.2" />



<div class="Index">
<p class="bbook">Psalms</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#v-p83.1">41:5</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p44.1">76:5</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Isaiah</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#v-p32.1">4:5</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p53.1">56:7</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p55.1">56:7</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Jeremiah</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p32.1">15:19</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p32.1">15:20</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#v-p13.1">20:7</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Ezekiel</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#ii-p23.1">16:25</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p60.1">17:24</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Daniel</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p60.3">7:15</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p60.3">7:16</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p60.2">12:13</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Habakkuk</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p30.1">1:1-9</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Matthew</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#ii-p31.1">8:26</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#v-p118.2">16:18</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">John</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#v-p109.1">14:2</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Acts</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p14.1">16:9</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Romans</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p50.1">4:20</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#iv-p66.1">8:13</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Ephesians</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#ii-p23.2">4:11</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Philippians</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#v-p114.1">3:18</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#v-p114.1">3:19</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">Hebrews</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#v-p96.1">6:4-6</a>  
 <a class="TOC" href="#iii-p41.1">12:27</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">1 Peter</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#v-p83.2">2:3</a> </p>
<p class="bbook">2 Peter</p>
 <p class="bref">
 <a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.i-p2.1">2:1</a> </p>
</div>




</div2>

<div2 title="Greek Words and Phrases" progress="99.96%" prev="vii.i" next="vii.iii" id="vii.ii">
  <h2 id="vii.ii-p0.1">Index of Greek Words and Phrases</h2>
  <div class="Greek" id="vii.ii-p0.2">
    <insertIndex type="foreign" lang="EL" id="vii.ii-p0.3" />



<div class="Index">
<ul class="Index1">
 <li><span class="Greek"><a class="TOC" href="#vi.iii-p2.39">ΘΟΛΟΓΟΥΜΕΝΑ ΠΑΝΤΟΔΑΠΑ</a></span></li>
 <li><span class="Greek"><a class="TOC" href="#vi.iii-p2.63">ΧΡΙΣΤΟΛΟΓΙΑ</a></span></li>
 <li><span class="Greek"><a class="TOC" href="#v-p118.1">Χριστολογία</a></span></li>
 <li><span class="Greek"><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p63.1">τινες μεγαλοι</a></span></li>
 <li><span class="Greek"><a class="TOC" href="#v-p36.1">Theologoumena</a></span></li>
</ul>
</div>



  </div>
</div2>

<div2 title="Latin Words and Phrases" progress="99.98%" prev="vii.ii" next="vii.iv" id="vii.iii">
  <h2 id="vii.iii-p0.1">Index of Latin Words and Phrases</h2>
  <insertIndex type="foreign" lang="LA" id="vii.iii-p0.2" />



<div class="Index">
<ul class="Index1">
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p8.1">Athenæ Oxoniensis</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p12.7">Authoribus classicis, qua Græcis, qua Latinis,</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p28.1">Biblia Polyglotta</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p104.9">Copiam illi fecit gratissimam.</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.iii-p2.18">De Divina Justitia</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p31.1">Diatriba de Divina Justitia</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p32.2">Disputatio Scholastica de divina Providentia</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p12.5">Donec animata plane evasit bibliotheca:</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.iii-p2.34">Exercitationes adversus Fanaticos</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p26.1">Exercitations adversus Fanaticos</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p28.1">Fasti Oxoniensis</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p12.13">Feliciorem adhuc studiis philosophicis,</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p39.7">Fervet, immensusque ruit profundo</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.iii-p2.41">Fiat Lux</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.i.i-p2.1">Johannes Owen</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p12.3">Literis natus, literis innutritus, totusque deditus;</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p40.3">Luxuriant artus, effusaque sanguine laxo</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p68.1">Magnalia Americana</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p1.2">Magnalia Americana Christi</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p12.15">Magno sub Barlovi, coll. reginalis, id tempus, socio.</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p40.5">Membra natant</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.i.i-p3.1">Mensis Scilicet Augusti XXIVº. Anno à Partu Virgineo. MDCLXXXIIIº, Ætat. LXVIIº.</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p39.3">Monte decurrens velut amnis, imbres</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p22.1">Non imago, non simulachrum prohibetur, sed, non facies tibi</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p158.1">O, sit anima mea cum Puritanis Anglicanis</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p12.11">Operam navavit satis felicem:</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p4.1">Oratio Quinta ad Academicos, anno 1657. “Per primum biennium vulgi fuimus et vulgaris fabula.”</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p14.1">Oratio prima</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p79.1">Oratio quinta</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p16.1">Permista deliciis auxilia</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iii-p6.1">Persona ecclesiæ</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p39.9">Pindarus ore</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p104.3">Prima ætatis virilis consors Maria,</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p39.5">Quem super notas aluêre ripas,</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p104.7">Rebus Dei domus se totum addicendi;</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p104.5">Rei domesticæ perite studiosa.</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p109.2">Reliquæ Baxterianæ</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.iii-p2.6">Salus Electorum</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iii-p23.1">Salus Electorum, Sanguis Iesu</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#i-p3.1">Semper quidem operæ pretium fuit illustres sanctorum describere vitas, ut sint in speculum et exemplum et quoddam veluti condimentum vitæ hominum super terram. Per hoc enim quodammodo apud nos etiam post mortem vivunt, multosque ex iis qui vivntes mortui sunt, ad veram vitam provocant et revocant</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#ii-p12.9">Sub Edv. Sylvestro, scholæ privitæ Oxonii moderatore</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p19.1">Terræ filius</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.iii-p2.21">Vindicæ Evangelicæ</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#v-p94.1">Vindiciæ Evangelicæ</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p32.1">Vindicicæ Gratiæ, Potestatis, ac Providentiæ divinæ</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.vi-p1.2">extra noxam</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iii-p2.1">in forma pauperis</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p28.2">in palæstra theologia exercitatissimus, in concionando assiduus et potens, in disputando strenuus et acutus</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p64.1">instar omnium</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.i-p3.2">macula</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p68.1">materia medica</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iv-p7.1">meliore luto</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.i-p3.1">reatus</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iii-p29.2">solutio ejusdem</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.vi-p1.3">suspicionem</a></li>
 <li><a class="TOC" href="#iii-p29.3">tantundem</a></li>
</ul>
</div>



</div2>

<div2 title="Index of Pages of the Print Edition" progress="99.99%" prev="vii.iii" next="toc" id="vii.iv">
  <h2 id="vii.iv-p0.1">Index of Pages of the Print Edition</h2>
  <insertIndex type="pb" id="vii.iv-p0.2" />



<div class="Index">
<p class="pages"><a class="TOC" href="#i-Page_XIX">XIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#i-Page_XX">XX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXI">XXI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXII">XXII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXIII">XXIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXIV">XXIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXV">XXV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXVI">XXVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXVII">XXVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXVIII">XXVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXIX">XXIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXX">XXX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#ii-Page_XXXI">XXXI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XXXII">XXXII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XXXIII">XXXIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XXXIV">XXXIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XXXV">XXXV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XXXVI">XXXVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XXXVII">XXXVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XXXVIII">XXXVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XXXIX">XXXIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XL">XL</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XLI">XLI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XLII">XLII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XLIII">XLIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XLIV">XLIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XLV">XLV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iii-Page_XLVI">XLVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_XLVII">XLVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_XLVIII">XLVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_XLIX">XLIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_L">L</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LI">LI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LII">LII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LIII">LIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LIV">LIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LV">LV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LVI">LVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LVII">LVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LVIII">LVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LIX">LIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LX">LX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LXI">LXI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LXII">LXII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LXIII">LXIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LXIV">LXIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LXV">LXV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LXVI">LXVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LXVII">LXVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#iv-Page_LXVIII">LXVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXIX">LXIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXX">LXX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXI">LXXI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXII">LXXII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXIII">LXXIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXIV">LXXIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXV">LXXV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXVI">LXXVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXVII">LXXVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXVIII">LXXVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXIX">LXXIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXX">LXXX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXXI">LXXXI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXXII">LXXXII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXXIII">LXXXIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXXIV">LXXXIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXXV">LXXXV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXXVI">LXXXVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXXVII">LXXXVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXXVIII">LXXXVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_LXXXIX">LXXXIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XC">XC</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XCI">XCI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XCII">XCII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XCIII">XCIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XCIV">XCIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XCV">XCV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XCVI">XCVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XCVII">XCVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XCVIII">XCVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_XCIX">XCIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_C">C</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CI">CI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CII">CII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CIII">CIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CIV">CIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CV">CV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CVI">CVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CVII">CVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CVIII">CVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CIX">CIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CX">CX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CXI">CXI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#v-Page_CXII">CXII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi-Page_CXIII">CXIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi.i.i-Page_CXIV">CXIV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.i-Page_CXV">CXV</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.i-Page_CXVI">CXVI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.ii-Page_CXVII">CXVII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.iii-Page_CXVIII">CXVIII</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.v-Page_CXIX">CXIX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.vii-Page_CXX">CXX</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi.ii.vii-Page_CXXI">CXXI</a> 
<a class="TOC" href="#vi.iii-Page_CXXII">CXXII</a> 
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