Andrew FullerMEMOIRS OF THE REV. ANDREW FULLER
By Andrew Gunton Fuller, editor
SECTION I. - 1754 TO 1776.
HIS BIRTH - ANCESTRY - NARRATIVE OF HIS EARLY RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS, CONVERSION, THEOLOGICAL DIFFICULTIES, AND ENTRANCE ON THE PASTORAL CHARGE AT SOHAM - GRADUAL CHANGE OF SENTIMENTS - NARRATIVE OF THE PROGRESS OF HIS MIND ON JUSTIFICATION - MARRIAGE.
THE celebrity attained by the subject of the following Memoir was in no degree attributable to adventitious aids of birth or education. Possessing no other advantages than were open to the son of any farmer in the middle of the last century, Mr. Fuller was indebted to no one, except for the barest rudiments of English instruction, as many of his earlier manuscripts sufficiently evince. He was born February 6th, 1754, at Wicken, near Ely, Cambridgeshire, for several centuries the residence of his paternal ancestors, some of whom, as well as those on his mother's side, had been distinguished for piety and sufferings in the cause of Christ. In order to avoid the persecutions of the heartless and profligate Charles II, they were accustomed to meet in the woods of Cambridgeshire, with Holcroft and Oddy, two eminent ejected ministers, the former of whom had been the medium of conversion to one of them.1
His father, Robert Fuller, married Philippa, daughter of Andrew Gunton, by whom he had three sons, Andrew being the youngest. The others, Robert and John, followed the occupation of their ancestors, the former at Isleham, Cambridgeshire, where he died in 1829; the latter at Little Bentley, Essex, where he still resides; both having been for many years pious and respectable deacons of Baptist churches.
The account given by Mr. Fuller of his early religious impressions affords an interesting exhibition of the mysterious operations of Divine grace in the midst of youthful depravity, while it also shows the gradual development of those traits of character which afterwards excited such admiration and esteem, and led to results of such importance to the religious world, and especially to his own immediate connexion. The system of doctrine which had at that time prevailed to a considerable extent was a caricature of Calvinism, exercising under some of its forms a peculiarly degrading and pernicious influence. From this he was the happy means of rescuing many of the churches, and of leading them to recognise the perfect consistency of the most elevated views of the sovereignty of Divine grace with the most extensive obligations of men to moral and spiritual duties, and the most unlimited invitations to unconverted hearers of the gospel.
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1 Palmer, in his Nonconformist's Memorial, informs us that these excellent men, who both suffered a long imprisonment in Cambridge castle, were the founders of nearly all the congregatitonal churches in that country. - They lie buried in an obscure garden in the little village of Oakington, about four miles from Cambridge, where a very decayeed tomb marks the spot of their sepulture. - B.
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The following extracts comprise the substance of two series of letters, which, being written to friends at different periods, and consequently containing in many cases a repetition of the same incidents, it is judged most expedient to reduce to a uniform and continuous narrative, preserving at the same time a scrupulous adherence to the words of the writer.
"You need not be told, my dear friend, that the religious experience of fallible creatures, like every thing else that attends them, must needs be marked with imperfection, and that the account that can be given of it on paper, after a lapse of many years, must be so in a still greater degree. I am willing, however, to comply with your request; and the rather because it may serve to recall some things which, in passing over the mind, produce interesting and useful sensations, both of pain and pleasure.
"My father and mother were Dissenters, of the Calvinistic persuasion, and were in the habit hearing Mr. Eve, a Baptist minister,2 who being what is here termed high in his sentiments, or tinged with false Calvinism, had little or nothing to say to the unconverted. I therefore never considered myself as any way concerned in what I heard from the pulpit. Nevertheless, by reading and reflection I was sometimes strongly impressed in a way of conviction. My parents were engaged in husbandry, which occupation, therefore, I followed to the twentieth year of my age. I remember many of the sins of my childhood, among which were lying, cursing, and swearing. It is true, as to the latter, it never became habitual. I had a dread upon my spirits to such a degree, that when I uttered an oath or an imprecation, it was by a kind of force put upon my feelings, and merely to appear manly, like other boys with whom I associated. This being the case, when I came to be about ten years old, I entirely left it off, except that I sometimes dealt in a sort of minced oaths and imprecations when my passions were excited.
"In the practice of telling lies I continued some years longer; at length, however, I began to consider this as a mean vice, and accordingly left it off, except in cases where I was under some pressing temptation.
"I think I must have been nearly fourteen years old before I began to have much serious thought about futurity. The preaching upon which I attended was not adapted to awaken my conscience, as the minister had seldom any thing to say except to believers, and what believing was I neither knew, nor was I greatly concerned to know. I remember about this time, as I was walking alone, I put the question to myself, What is faith? there is much made of it, What is it? I could not tell, but satisfied myself in thinking it was not of immediate concern, and I should understand it as I grew older.
"At times conviction laid fast hold of me, and rendered me extremely unhappy. The light I had received, I know not how, would not suffer me to go into sin with that ease which I observed in other lads. One winter evening, I remember going with a number of other boys to a smith's shop, to warm myself by his fire. Presently they began to sing vain songs. This appeared to me so much like revelling, that I felt something within me which would not suffer me to join them, and while I sat silently, in rather an unpleasant muse, those words sunk into my mind like a dagger, 'What doest thou here, Elijah?' I immediately left the company; yet, shocking to reflect upon, I walked home, murmuring in my heart against God, that I could not be let alone, and be suffered to take my pleasure like other young people!
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2 It is a somewhat curious fact that while Mr. Eve was the Baptist minister at Soham, Mr. Adam was settled as the pastor of the Congregational church in that village. - B.
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"Sometimes I was very much affected, in thinking of the doctrines of Christianity, or in reading such books as Bunyan's Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, and his Pilgrim's Progress. One day, in particular, I took up Ralph Erskine's Gospel Sonnets, and opening upon what he entitles A Gospel Catechism for Young Christians, or Christ All in All in our Complete Redemption, I read, and as I read I wept. Indeed I was almost overcome with weeping, so interesting did the doctrine of eternal salvation appear to me; yet, there being no radical change in my heart, these thoughts passed away, and I was equally intent on the pursuit of folly as heretofore.
"Yet I often felt a strange kind of regard towards good people, such of them especially as were familiar in their behaviour to young persons, and would sometimes talk to me about religion. I used to wish I had many thousand pounds, that I might give some of it to those of them who were poor as to their worldly circumstances.
"I was at times the subject of such convictions and affections that I really thought myself converted, and lived under that delusion for a long time. The ground on which I rested that opinion was as follows: - One morning, I think about the year 1767, as I was walking alone, I began to think seriously what would become of my poor soul, and was deeply affected in thinking of my condition. I felt that I was the slave of sin, and that it had such power over me that it was in vain for me to think of extricating myself from its thraldom. Till now, I did not know but that I could repent at any time; but now I perceived that my heart was wicked, and that it was not in me to turn to God, or to break off my sins by righteousness. I saw that if God would forgive me all the past, and offer me the kingdom of heaven on condition of giving up my wicked pursuits, I should not accept it. This conviction was accompanied with great depression of heart. I walked sorrowfully along, repeating these words: 'Iniquity will be my ruin! Iniquity will be my ruin!' While poring over my unhappy case, those words of the apostle suddenly occurred to my mind, 'Sin shall not have dominion over you; for ye are not under the law, but under grace.' Now the suggestion, of a text of Scripture to the mind, especially if it came with power, was generally considered, by the religious people with whom I occasionally associated, as a promise coming immediately from God. I therefore so understood it, and thought that God had thus revealed to me that I was in a state of salvation, and therefore that iniquity should not, as I had feared, be my ruin. The effect was, I was overcome with joy and transport. I shed, I suppose, thousands of tears as I walked along, and seemed to feel myself as it were in a new world. It appeared to me that I hated my sins, and was resolved to forsake them. Thinking on my wicked courses, I remember using those words of Paul, 'Shall I continue in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid!' I felt, or seemed to feel, the strongest indignation at the thought. But, strange as it may appear, though my face that morning was, I believe, swollen with weeping, yet before night all was gone and forgotten, and I returned to my former vices with as eager a gust as ever. Nor do I remember that for more than half a year afterwards I had any serious thoughts about the salvation of my soul. I lived entirely without prayer, and was wedded to my sins just the same as before, or rather was increasingly attached to them.
"Some time in the following year I was again walking by myself, and began to reflect upon my course of life, particularly upon my former hopes and affections, and how I had since forgotten them all, and returned to all my wicked ways. Instead of sin having no more dominion over me, I perceived that its
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dominion had been increased. Yet I still thought that must have been a promise from God to me, and that I must have been a converted person, but in a backsliding state; and this persuasion was confirmed by another sudden impression, which dispelled my dejection, in these words 'I have blotted out as a thick cloud thy transgressions, and as a cloud thy sins.' This, like the former, overcame my mind with joy. I wept much at the thoughts of having backslidden so long, but yet considered myself now as restored and happy. But this also was mere transient affection. I have great reason to think that the great deep of my heart's depravity had not yet been broken up, and that all my religion was without any abiding principle. Amidst it all, I still continued in the neglect of prayer, and was never, that I recollect, induced to deny myself of any sin when temptations were presented. I now thought, however, surely I shall be better for the time to come. But, alas! in a few days this also was forgotten, and I returned to my evil courses with as great an eagerness as ever.
"I was now about fifteen years of age; and as, notwithstanding my convictions and hopes, the bias of my heart was not changed, I became more and more addicted to evil, in proportion as my powers and passions strengthened. Nor was I merely prompted by my own propensities; for having formed acquaintance with other wicked young people, my progress in the way to death became greatly accelerated. Being of an athletic frame and of a daring spirit, I was often engaged in such exercises and exploits as, if the good hand of God had not preserved me, might have issued in death. I also frequently engaged in games of hazard, which, though not to any great amount, yet were very bewitching to me, and tended greatly to corrupt my mind. These, with various other sinful practices, had so hardened my heart, that I seldom thought of religion. Nay, I recollect that on a Lord's-day evening about that time, when my parents were reading in the family, I was shamefully engaged with one of the servants, playing idle tricks, though I took care not to be seen in them. These things were nothing to me at that time; for my conscience, by reiterated acts of wickedness, had become seared as with a hot iron: they were, however, heavy burdens to me afterwards.
"Notwithstanding various convictions and transient affections, I was pressing on in a lamentable career of wickedness; but about the autumn of 1769 my convictions revisited me, and brought on such a concern about my everlasting welfare as issued, I trust, in real conversion.
"It was my common practice, after the business of the day was over, to get into bad company in the evening, and when there I indulged in sin without restraint. But after persisting in this course for some time, I began to be very uneasy, particularly in a morning when I first awoke. It was almost as common for me to be seized with keen remorse at this hour as it was to go into vain company in the evening. At first I began to make vows of reformation, and this for the moment would afford a little ease; but as the temptations returned, my vows were of no account. It was an enlightened conscience only that was on the side of God: my heart was still averse to every thing that was spiritual or holy. For several weeks I went on in this way; vowing and breaking my vows, reflecting on myself for my evil conduct, and yet continually repeating it.
"It was not now, however, as heretofore; my convictions followed me up closely. I could not, as formerly, forget these things, and was therefore a poor miserable creature; like a drunkard, who carouses in the evening, but mopes about the next day like one half dead.
"One morning, I think in November, 1769, I walked out by myself with an
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unusual load of guilt upon my conscience. The remembrance of my sin, not only on the past evening, but for a long time back, the breach of my vows and the shocking termination of my former hopes and affections, all uniting together, formed a burden which I knew not how to bear. The reproaches of a guilty conscience seemed like the gnawing worm of hell. I thought surely that must be an earnest of hell itself. The fire and brimstone of the bottomless pit seemed to burn within my bosom. I do not write in the language of exaggeration. I now know that the sense which I then had of the evil of sin and the wrath of God was very far short of the truth; but yet it seemed more than I was able to sustain. In reflecting upon my broken vows, I saw that there was no truth in me. I saw that God would be perfectly just in sending me to hell, and that to hell I must go unless I were saved of mere grace, and, as it were, in spite of myself. I felt that, if God were to forgive me all my past sins, I should again destroy my soul, and that in less than a day's time. I never before knew what it was to feel myself an odious lost sinner, standing in need of both pardon and purification. Yet, though I needed those blessings, it seemed presumption to hope for them, after what I had done. I was absolutely helpless, and seemed to have nothing about me that ought to excite the pity of God, or that I could reasonably expect should do so; but every thing disgusting to him, and provoking to the eyes of his glory. 'What have I done? what must I do?' These were my inquiries, perhaps ten times over. Indeed I knew not what to do! I durst not promise amendment, for I saw that such promises were self-deception. To hope for forgiveness in the course that I was in was the height of presumption; and to think of Christ, after having so basely abused his grace, seemed too much. So I had no refuge. At one moment I thought of giving myself up to despair. 'I may (said I within myself) even return and take my fill of sin; I can but be lost.' This thought made me shudder at myself! My heart revolted. What, thought I, give up Christ, and hope, and heaven! Those lines of Ralph Erskine's then occurred to my mind -
'But say, if all the gusts
And grains of love be spent,
Say, farewell Christ, and welcome lusts
Stop, stop; I melt, I faint.'I could not bear the thought of plunging myself into endless ruin.
"It is difficult at this distance of time to recollect with precision the minute workings of my mind; but as near as I can remember I was like a man drowning, looking every way for help, or rather catching for something by which he might save his life. I tried to find whether there were any hope in the Divine mercy -- any in the Saviour of sinners; but felt repulsed by the thought of mercy having been so basely abused already. In this state of mind, as I was moving slowly on, I thought of the resolution of Job, 'Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.' I paused, and repeated the words over and over. Each repetition seemed to kindle a ray of hope mixed with a determination, if I might, to cast my perishing soul upon the Lord Jesus Christ for salvation, to be both pardoned and purified; for I felt that I needed the one as much as the other.
"I was not then aware that any poor sinner had a warrant to believe in Christ for the salvation of his soul, but supposed there must be some kind of qualification to entitle him to do it; yet I was aware I had no qualification. On a review of my resolution at that time, it seems to resemble that of Esther, who went into the king's presence contrary to the law, and at the hazard of her life.
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Like her, I seemed reduced to extremities, impelled by dire necessity to run all hazards, even though I should perish in the attempt. Yet it was not altogether from a dread of wrath that I fled to this refuge; for I well remember that I felt something attracting in the Saviour. I must - I will - yes, I will trust my soul - my sinful lost soul in his hands. If I perish, I perish. However it was, I was determined to cast myself upon Christ, thinking peradventure he would save my soul; and, if not, I could but be lost. In this way I continued above an hour, weeping and supplicating mercy for the Saviour's sake (my soul hath it still in remembrance, and is humbled in me); and as the eye of the mind was more and more fixed upon him, my guilt and fears were gradually and insensibly removed.
"I now found rest for my troubled soul; and I reckon that I should have found it sooner, if I had not entertained the notion of my having no warrant to come to Christ without some previous qualification. This notion was a bar that kept me back for a time, though through Divine drawings I was enabled to overleap it. As near as I can remember in the early part of these exercises, when I subscribed to the justice of God in my condemnation, and thought of the Saviour of sinners, I had then relinquished every false confidence, believed my help to be only in him, and approved of salvation by grace alone through his death; and if at that time I had known that any poor sinner might warrantably have trusted in him for salvation, I conceive I should have done so, and have found rest to my soul sooner than I did. I mention this because it may be the case with others, who may be kept in darkness and despondency by erroneous views of the gospel much longer than I was.
"I think also I did repent of my sin in the early part of these exercises, and before I thought that Christ would accept and save my soul. I conceive that justifying God in my condemnation, and approving the way of salvation by Jesus Christ, necessarily included it; but yet I did not think at the time that this was repentance, or any thing truly good. Indeed I thought nothing about the exercises of my own mind, but merely of my guilty and lost condition, and whether there were any hope of escape for me. But, having found rest for my soul in the cross of Christ, I was now conscious of my being the subject of repentance, faith, and love. When I thought of my past life, I abhorred myself, and repented as in dust and ashes; and when I thought of the gospel way of salvation, I drank it in, as cold water is imbibed by a thirsty soul. My heart felt one with Christ, and dead to every other object around me. I had thought I had found the joys of salvation heretofore; but now I knew I had found them, and was conscious that I had passed from death unto life. Yet even now my mind was not so engaged in reflecting upon my own feelings as upon the objects which occasioned them.
"From this time, my former wicked courses were forsaken. I had no manner of desire after them. They lost their influence upon me. To those evils, a glance at which before would have set my passions in a flame, I now felt no inclination. My soul, said I, with joy and triumph, is as a weaned child! I now knew experimentally what it was to be dead to the world by the cross of Christ, and to feel an habitual determination to devote my future life to God my Saviour, and from this time considered the vows of God as upon me.
"In recollecting the early exercises of my mind, I see a great difference between respect and love. I never knew the time when I did not respect good men; but I did not always love them for Christ's sake. There was one poor man in particular, who used to travel about three miles on a Lord's-day morning to worship,
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and as I often attended at the same place, I was frequently very eager to get his company. I have run miles to overtake him, though when I was with him I had nothing to say. In the autumn of this year he became my father's thrasher, and I was delighted on account of it, though I scarcely knew for what reason. My mind was now at rest in Christ; yet I had never spoken to any one on the subject, nor did I think of doing so for the present. But whether the thrasher perceived some alteration in me as I went about my business, or how it was, I know not, he talked to me rather freely, and I told him all my heart. After this, other Christians conversed with me, and invited me to their prayer-meetings, and I engaged with them in prayer, and other religious exercises. It was in this accidental way, and not from my own intention, that I became known among serious people. But, having opened my mind to the thrasher, I often visited him in the barn; and, because I hindered him in his work, I made it up by thrashing for him sometimes for an hour or two together.
"From the month of November, 1769, I had entirely broken off all my ungodly connexions and courses; yet, being a boy under sixteen, I found at times boyish inclinations and strong struggles of mind respecting youthful follies. At Shrove-tide, in particular, when the young men met together, and practised various athletic exercises, their shouts, which were within my hearing, would throw me into agitations which rendered me very unhappy. But my good friend, the thrasher, warned me tenderly and solemnly to keep out of the way of temptation, and I was enabled, though with some difficulty, to follow his counsel. As the spring of 1770 came on, the young people of the town, as usual, would meet every evening for youthful exercises. This was especially the case at the wake or feast; and though I always kept at a distance, yet I found such times very insnaring to my mind. To avoid this, I began a practice which I continued with great peace and comfort for several years. Whenever a feast or holiday occurred, instead of sitting at home by myself, I went to a neighbouring village to visit some Christian friends, and returned when all was over. By this step I was delivered from those mental participations in folly which had given me so much uneasiness. Thus the seasons of temptation became to me times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.
"In March, 1770, I witnessed the baptizing of two young persons, having never seen that ordinance administered before, and was considerably affected by what I saw and heard. The solemn immersion of a person, on a profession of faith in Christ, carried such a conviction with it that I wept like a child on the occasion. The words of the psalmist, in Psal. cxi. 10, 'A good understanding have all they that do his commandments,' left a deep and abiding impression on my mind. I was fully persuaded that this was the primitive way of baptizing, and that every Christian was bound to attend to this institution of our blessed Lord. About a month after this I was baptized myself, and joined the church at Soham, being then turned of sixteen years of age.
"Within a day or two after I had been baptized, as I was riding through the fields, I met a company of young men. One of them especially, on my having passed them, called after me in very abusive language, and cursed me for having been 'dipped.' My heart instantly rose in a way of resentment; but though the fire burned, I held my peace; for before I uttered a word I was checked with this passage, which occurred to my mind, 'In the world ye shall have tribulation.' I wept, and entreated the Lord to pardon me; feeling quite willing to bear the ridicule of the wicked, and to go even through great tribulation, if at last I might but enter the kingdom. In this tender frame of mind I rode some
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miles, thinking of the temptations I might have to encounter. Amongst others, I was aware of the danger of being drawn into any acquaintance with the other sex, which might prove injurious to my spiritual welfare. While poring over these things, and fearful of falling into the scares of youth, I was led to think of that passage, 'In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.' This made me weep for joy; and for forty-five years I have scarcely entered on any serious engagement without thinking of these words, and entreating Divine direction. I have been twice married, and twice settled as the pastor of a church; which were some of the leading ways in which I had to acknowledge the Lord; and in each, when over, I could say, as Psal. cxix. 26, 'My ways have I declared, and thou heardest me.'
"In reviewing the early years of my life, I see much ignorance, vanity, and folly. I feel the force of Paul's considering the terms carnal, and babes in Christ, as synonymous. But, amidst all my youthful follies and sins, I bless God that I was always kept from any unbecoming freedom with the other sex, or attempting to engage the affections of any female, except with a view to marriage.
"The summer of 1770 was a time of great religious pleasure. I loved my pastor, and all my brethren in the church; and they expressed great affection towards me in return. I esteemed the righteous as the excellent of the earth, in whom was all my delight. Those who knew not Christ seemed to me almost another species, towards whom I was incapable of attachment. About this time I formed an intimacy with a Mr. Joseph Diver, a wise and good man, who had been baptized with me. He was about forty years of age, and had lived many years in a very recluse way, giving himself much to reading and reflection. He had a great delight in searching after truth, which rendered his conversation peculiarly interesting to me; nor was he less devoted to universal practical godliness. I account this connexion one of the greatest blessings in my life. Notwithstanding the disparity as to years, we loved each other like David and Jonathan. My life this summer resembled the description given by Dr. Watts: --
'The day glides swiftly o'er their heads,
Made up of innocence and love;
And soft and silent as the shades
Their nightly minutes gently move.
But in the autumn of the same year an unhappy affair occurred in the church, which occasioned a breach between our pastor, Mr. Eve, and the people, which terminated in his leaving them; and, what rendered it the more afflicting to me, I was much concerned in it. The case was this: one of the members having been guilty of drinking to excess, I was one of the first who knew of it. I immediately went and talked to him, as well as I could, on the evil of his conduct. His answer was, 'He could not keep himself; and that, though I bore so hard on him, I was not my own keeper.' At this I felt indignant, considering it as a base excuse. I therefore told him that he could keep himself from such sins as these, and that his way of talking was merely to excuse what was inexcusable. I knew not what else to say at that time; yet the idea of arrogating to be my own keeper seemed too much. He, however, was offended, and told me that I was young, and did not know the deceitfulness of my own heart. Well, I went and told my pastor, who highly commended me, and said, 'We certainly could keep ourselves from open sins. We had no power,' he observed,
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'to do things spiritually good; but as to outward acts, we had power both to obey the will of God and to disobey it.'
"The business soon came before the church, and the offender was unanimously excluded: the excuse which he had made, too, was considered by all, I believe, as an aggravation of his offence. But, this affair being disposed of, the abstract question of the power of sinful men to do the will of God, and to keep themselves from sin, was taken up by some of the leading members of the church, amongst whom was my friend Joseph Diver. They readily excused me, as being a babe in religion; but thought the pastor ought to have known better, and to have been able to answer the offender without betraying the truth. They alleged that the greatest and best of characters, as recorded in Scripture, never arrogated to themselves the power of keeping themselves from evil, but constantly prayed for keeping grace; that, were it not for the restraining goodness and constraining grace of God, earth would be a hell, and the best of men incarnate devils; in short, that though we are altogether blameworthy for our evil propensities, yet, if they were restrained or conquered, it was altogether to be ascribed to God, and not to us. To support these ideas, they alleged the prayers of the faithful to be kept from evil, even from presumptuous sins, Psal. xix. 13; the declaration of the prophet, that 'the way of man is not in himself: it is not in him that walketh to direct his steps,' Jer. x. 23; the case of Hezekiah, whom the Lord left, that he might try him, that he might know all that was in his heart, 2 Chron. xxxii. 31; and the acknowledgments of such men as John Bradford the martyr, who, on seeing a man go to be publicly executed, said, 'There goes John Bradford by nature.'
"On the other hand, the pastor distinguished between internal and external power. He allowed that men had no power of themselves to perform any thing spiritually good; but contended that they could yield external obedience, and keep themselves from open acts of sin. In proof of this he alleged a great number of Scripture exhortations; asking, If we had no power to comply with them, why were they given us? The opponents did not deny our being exhorted to do good and to avoid evil, nor that it was our duty to do both and our sin to act otherwise; but they denied that this implied our being sufficient of ourselves to do any thing, even to think a good thought.
"In these disputes I continued for some time on the side of my pastor; but after a few months I felt difficulties on the subject which I could not answer, and which rendered me unhappy. I perceived that some kind of power was necessary to render us accountable beings. If we were like stocks or stones, or literally dead, like men in a burying ground, we could with no more propriety than they be commanded to perform any duty; if we were mere machines, there could be no sin chargeable upon us. Yet, on the other hand, the Scriptures expressly affirm that 'the way of man is not in himself,' and represent the godly as crying to Heaven for preservation from evil, ascribing all the good that was in them to Him who worketh in us to will and to do of his own good pleasure. I prayed much, and laboured hard to solve this difficulty.
"My worthy friend Joseph Diver, who sustained a high character for wisdom and integrity, would reason thus with me: -- 'We ought to hate evil, and love the Lord; but it is the grace of God alone that can make us what we ought to be.' He would often speak of the equity of the Divine requirements in the words of David, 'I esteem all thy precepts in all things to be right; and I hate every false way.' And again, 'Thou hast commanded us that we should keep thy precepts diligently: O that my ways were directed to keep thy statutes!'
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'Thus it is,' said he, 'that we should turn every precept into a prayer, instead of inferring from it a sufficiency in ourselves to conform to it. All our conformity to the Divine precepts is of grace; it will never do to argue from our obligations against our dependence, nor from our dependence on grace against our obligations to duty. If it were not for the restraining goodness and preserving grace of God, we should be a kind of devils, and earth would resemble hell.'
"In October, 1771, our pastor, Mr. Eve, left us. I loved him, and he loved me, and took it hard that I had in some respects changed my views. I learned afterwards that he had entertained thoughts of me as being formed for the ministry, but this contention damped his hopes on that subject. He settled, when he left Soham, with a people at Wisbeach. I never look back upon these contentions but with strong feelings. They were to me the wormwood and the gall of my youth; my soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me. But though, during these unpleasant disputes, there were many hard thoughts and hard words on almost all hands, yet they were ultimately the means of leading my mind into those views of Divine truth which have since appeared in the principal part of my writings. They excited me to read, and think, and pray, with more earnestness than I should have done without them; and, if I have judged or written to any advantage since, it was in consequence of what I then learned by bitter experience, and in the midst of many tears and temptations. God's way is in the deep.
"About this time I met with a passage in Dr. Gill, (I think it was in his Cause of God and Truth,) in which he distinguished between a thing being 'in the power of our hand, and in the power of our heart.' This, thought I, is the clue to our dispute. Every man has it in the power of his hand to do good and abstain from evil; and this it is which makes us accountable beings. We can do, or forbear to do, this and that, if we have a mind; but many have not a mind, and none would have such a mind but for the restraining goodness or constraining grace of God. We have it in the power of our hands to do good, but we are disposed to do evil, and so to do good is not naturally in the power of our hearts.
"Mr. Eve having removed, and the church being divided into parties, it was thought by some that we should be dissolved; and I went several Lord's days to hear an Independent minister in the neighbourhood. Those members, however, who were of one mind, and who formed the majority, met together on Lord's days; and having no minister, and being situated too far from other Baptist churches to get supplies, they carried on the worship by singing, prayer, reading, and expounding the Scriptures. They also appointed a day for fasting and prayer, and invited all the members to unite in it. I went to this meeting, and from that time continued to assemble with them. My friend Joseph Diver was at that time chosen to be a deacon; and, having some talent for expounding the Scriptures, he used, at the request of the church, to take up a part of every Lord's day in that exercise.
"As the disputes in the church were the occasion of turning my thoughts to most of those subjects on which I have since written, so were they the occasion of my engaging in the Christian ministry.
"In November, 1771, as I was riding out on business, on a Saturday morning, to a neighbouring village, my mind fell into a train of interesting and affecting thoughts, from that passage of Scripture, 'Weeping may endure for a night; but joy cometh in the morning.' I never had felt such freedom of mind
[p. 11]
in thinking on a Divine subject before; nor do I recollect ever having had a thought of the ministry; but I then felt as if I could preach from it, and indeed I did preach in a manner as I rode along. I thought no more of it, however, but returned home when I had done my business. In the afternoon of the same day, I went to meet my mother, who had been to London, to see her mother, who was then very unwell. As we rode a few miles together, she told me she had been thinking much about me while in town, and added, 'My dear, you have often expressed your wish for a trade: I have talked with your uncle at Kensington about it, and he has procured a good place in the city, where, instead of paying a premium, you may, if you give satisfaction, in a little time receive wages, and learn the business. I thought (continued she) that as we had now lost the gospel, and perhaps shall never have it again, you could have no reason for wishing to continue here. In London you can hear the gospel in its purity.' That which my mother suggested was very true; I had always been inclined to trade; but, how it was I cannot tell, my heart revolted at the proposal at this time. It was not from any desire or thought of the ministry, nor any thing else in particular, unless it were a feeling towards the little scattered society of which I was a member, a kind of lingering to see what would become of the city. I said but little to my mother, but seemed to wish for time to consider of it. This was Saturday evening.
"The next morning, as I was walking by myself to meeting, expecting to hear the brethren pray, and my friend Joseph Diver expound the Scriptures, I was met by one of the members whom he had requested to see me, who said, 'Brother Diver has by accident sprained his ankle, and cannot be at meeting to-day; and he wishes me to say to you, that he hopes the Lord will be with you.' 'The Lord be with me!' thought I, 'what does brother Diver mean? He cannot suppose that I can take his place, seeing I have never attempted any thing of the kind, nor been asked to do so.' It then occurred, however, that I had had an interesting train of thought the day before, and had imagined at the time I could speak it, if I were called to it. But though I had repeatedly engaged in prayer publicly, yet I had never been requested to attempt any thing further, and therefore I thought no more of it.
"We walked on to the meeting, and took our places, when, after singing, one of the brethren went to prayer. After which the eldest deacon asked me if I would read some part of the Scriptures, and, if I found liberty, drop any remarks as I went on, which might occur. At first I was startled, but, conscious of what had passed in my mind the day before, I thought as brother Diver was absent it might be my duty to try, and therefore making no objections, which as it appeared to me would have been mere affectation, I rose and spoke from Psal. xxx. 5 for about half an hour, with considerable freedom. After this I was again invited by brother Diver to speak, and I did so; but, not enjoying that liberty which I did the first time, I was discouraged, and, though frequently asked, declined all such exercises for more than a year. But early in 1773, I think it was, brother Diver was absent again through an affliction, and I was invited once more to take his place. Being induced to renew the attempt, I spoke from those words of our Lord, 'The Son of man came to seek and save that which is lost.' On this occasion, I not only felt greater freedom than I had ever found before, but the attention of the people was fixed, and several young persons in the congregation were impressed with the subject, and afterwards joined the church.
"From this time the brethren seemed to entertain an idea of my engaging in
[p. 12]
the ministry, nor was I without serious thoughts of it myself. Sometimes I felt a desire after it; at other times I was much discouraged, especially through a consciousness of my want of spirituality of mind, which I considered as a qualification of the first importance. As to other qualifications, it certainly would have been of great use to me, if for a few years I had had the instructions of some father in the ministry; and I have often since regretted that, from 1771 to 1774, I lived to so little purpose. But none of my connexions had any idea of the kind, and, being conscious of knowing about as much as those around me, I myself thought nothing of it. At one time, when seriously reflecting on my own defects and insufficiency, I was greatly relieved and encouraged by that passage, Psal. lxxxiv. 11, 'The Lord will give grace and glory.' It was now usual for my friend Diver to speak on one part of the Lord's day, and for me to be engaged on the other; and these exercises appeared to be blessed to several young people, who afterwards joined the church.
"In January, 1774, an elderly lady, a member of the church, died, and left a request that, if the church did not think it disorderly, I might be allowed to preach a funeral sermon on the occasion. As the members were nearly of one mind respecting me, they agreed to set apart the twenty-sixth of that month, which was previous to the funeral, for fasting and prayer; and they then called me to the ministry. From that time I exercised from the pulpit.
"Being now devoted to the ministry, I took a review of the doctrine I should preach, and spent pretty much of my time in reading, and in making up my mind as to various things relative to the gospel. Impressed with the importance of the connexions I should probably form in a few years, both as a man and as a minister, to my future happiness and usefulness, I earnestly besought the Lord to be my guide; and those words in Prov. iii. 6 were very sweet to me, 'In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.' In most of the important turns of my life, I have thought of that passage with renewed tenderness, as one would think of a friendly hint given him in early life, and make it a rule of conduct.
"Settling in a town where I had lived from the age of six years, I could not expect to be much respected by the inhabitants. In this, however, I had no occasion to complain. I had, indeed, more respect shown me than I looked for; partly owing to the prevalence of an opinion when I was at school of my being more learned than my master; an opinion which I am certain was far from being true. But it indicated a partiality in my favour, which perhaps was of some use in leading people to hear the word.
"With respect to the system of doctrine which I had been used to hear from my youth, it was in the high Calvinistic, or rather hyper Calvinistic, strain, admitting nothing spiritually good to be the duty of the unregenerate, and nothing to be addressed to them in a way of exhortation, excepting what related to external obedience. Outward services might be required, such as an attendance on the means of grace; and abstinence from gross evils might be enforced; but nothing was said to them from the pulpit in the way of warning them to flee from the wrath to come, or inviting them to apply to Christ for salvation. And though our late disputes had furnished me with some few principles inconsistent with these notions, yet I did not perceive their bearings at first, and durst not for some years address an invitation to the unconverted to come to Jesus. I began, however, to doubt whether I had got the truth respecting this subject. This view of things did not seem to comport with the ideas which I had imbibed concerning the power of man to do the will of God. I perceived that the will
[p. 13]
of God was not confined to mere outward actions, but extended to the inmost thoughts and intents of the heart. The distinction of duties, therefore, into internal and external, and making the latter only concern the unregenerate, wore a suspicious appearance. But as I perceived this reasoning would affect the whole tenor of my preaching, I moved on with slow and trembling steps; and, having to feel my way out of a labyrinth, I was a long time ere I felt satisfied.
"My mind was also frequently diverted to other subjects of inquiry. In the first year of my ministry, books were put into my hands which led me to consider certain questions in divinity, which it might easily be thought were improper for me at the age of twenty. One of these, by Mr. Stockell, was on the pre-existence of Christ's human soul, before he was born of the virgin. Another, by Mr. Allen, was on the Sonship of Christ, or whether the character of the only begotten Son of God would ever have belonged to him if he had not been the son of Mary? These things would not have occupied my mind had they not been suggested by others. Yet I have reason to thank God that they were the occasion of fixing my judgment; and I have since perceived that every thing pertaining to the person of Christ is of more than ordinary importance.
"As to the pre-existence of Christ's human soul, it seemed to me, in itself, a strange conceit, and such as I should never have thought of in reading the Scriptures. The texts on which it was founded seemed to be forced into the service, especially Prov. viii. and Ps. cxxxix. 15, 16; and though some who professed to believe in the Divinity of Christ were partial to the notion, yet I suspected it was invented to undermine that important doctrine. It is true, this notion was held by Dr. Watts, and I examined his reasoning, but without obtaining satisfaction. In consequence of the examination I made at that time I was enabled afterwards to repel an attack from a company of ministers, who were warm for that opinion. When they put it to me, I offered to prove that it led to atheism or relinquish the argument. They accepted my offer. I began by saying, 'You suppose the human soul of Christ to be a party in the everlasting counsels of God?' -- 'Yes, God could not take counsel with himself, for a council implies more than one; but God is one.' -- 'Yet you do not suppose the soul of Christ to have always existed?' 'No; it was created, and therefore could not be eternal.' -- 'Then you must suppose that, till the great God had a creature to take counsel with, he had no plan -- prior to the act of creation he was without counsel, without plan, without design! But a being without plan, purpose, or design, is not God!!! Thus you are landed on atheism. The truth is, God never was without his plan, purpose, or design. By applying, too, those passages of Scripture which express the pre-existence of Christ, and thereby prove his Divinity, to the pre-existence of his human soul, you undermine his Divinity and favour the Arian hypothesis.'
"Concerning the Sonship of Christ, I had more hesitation. I conversed upon it with my friend Diver, who was favourable to Mr. Allen's idea, namely, that Christ is called the Son of God, not as a Divine person, but as assuming human nature, and being both God and man. He, however, very generously advised me to read the New Testament with an eye to the question, and to observe, as I went along, whether in any instances where Christ is represented as the Son of God, it respected him as a Divine person antecedent to his incarnation; and whether the Scripture name for Christ's pre-incarnate person was not the WORD rather than the Son of God. In reading and thinking on the subject I found such proof as quite satisfied me that he was the Son of God, antecedently to his being born of a woman, and that in calling God his own Father he made himself
[p. 14]
equal with God. The following passages appeared to me to admit of no other fair interpretation than that which I was invited to reject, John v. 18; Gal. iv. 4; Heb. i. 8; v. 8, 9; 1 John iii. 8.3 Had I not been initiated into these principles at an early period, I should not have been able to write the treatise against Socinianism, which I have no cause to regret having written.
"Besides these, I was much perplexed about the same time with the writings of Mr. John Johnson, of Liverpool, and for some time favoured his sentiments. There was something imposing in his manner, by which a young and inexperienced reader is apt to be carried away; my pastor had also been one of his admirers. His denial of God's having decreed to permit sin, and his notion of the purposes of grace being executed upon the elect, even though sin had never intervened, much entangled me. It seemed as if he were concerned to vindicate his Creator from being the author of sin; and in this view I could not but approve; but on the other hand, it appeared to me idle to speculate on what God could or would have done concerning his elect, if sin had never intervened, when all his revealed counsels went on the supposition of its existence; even the incarnation of his Son was 'to destroy the works of the devil.' And all the grace given us in Christ Jesus supposed the intervention of sin; his scheme, therefore, appeared to have no foundation in the Scriptures. And, respecting the decree to permit sin, I was one day conversing with a friend upon it, who observed, 'It is a fact, is it not, that God has permitted sin? And can it be a reproach to his character that he should have decreed to do what he has done?'
"This remark carried conviction to my mind. I saw that, if there were any thing inconsistent with the Divine perfections in the affair, it must be in permitting evil, and not in the decree to permit it. If the one were right the other could not be wrong, unless it were wrong to determine to do what is right. But to say that it is wrong for God to permit evil is either to arraign the Divine conduct, or to maintain that evil exists without being permitted. I perceived, too, that Mr Johnson availed himself of the ambiguity of the word permit, and because it signifies on some occasions to give leave, would have it thought that God could not be said to permit it. After this, I thought but little more of it., but rested in this, The Judge of the whole earth will do right.
"In reviewing some of these questions, which occupied my attention at so early a period, I have seen reason to bless God for preserving me at a time when my judgment was so immature. When I have seen the zeal which has been expended in maintaining some such peculiarities, I have thought it a pity. Bunyan would have called them 'nuts which spoil the children's teeth.' They have appeared to me as a sort of spiritual narcotics, which, when a man once gets a taste for them, he will prefer to the most wholesome food. It was in recollection of these things that I lately wrote, in an Essay on Truth, as follows, -- 'A man who chews opium, or tobacco, may prefer it to the most wholesome food, and may derive from it pleasure, and even vigour for a time; but his pale countenance and debilitated constitution will soon bear witness to the folly of spending his money for that which is not bread.'
"In the spring of 1775 I accepted the invitation of the church at Soham, and was ordained their pastor. The pastors of the other churches, who attended the ordination, took that opportunity to inquire into the controversy which had divided us from our former minister, and requested me to state the difference. Mr. Robert Hall, of Arnsby,4 who was one of them, expressed his satisfaction in the statement,
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3 For further remarks on this subject, see Index, Article, Sonship of Christ.
4 This great and excellent man was the father of the late Robert Hall, A.M., and author of "Help to Zion's Tavellers," &c. Mr. Fuller, alluding to the commencement of his acquaintance with him, observes, "He came seventy miles to my ordinantion, and continued my father and friend till his death."
[p. 15]
but recommended Edwards on the Will to my careful perusal, as the most able performance on the power of man to do the will of God. Not being much acquainted with books at that time, I confounded the work of Dr. John Edwards, of Cambridge, an Episcopalian Calvinist, entitled Veritas Redux, with that of Jonathan Edwards, of New England. I read the former, and thought it a good book; but it did not seem exactly to answer Mr. Hall's recommendation. Nor was it till the year 1777 that I discovered my mistake. Meantime, however, I was greatly exercised upon the subject, and upon the work of the Christian ministry.
"The principal writings with which I was first acquainted were those of Bunyan, Gill, and Brine. I had read pretty much of Dr. Gill's Body of Divinity, and from many parts of it had received considerable instruction. I perceived, however, that the system of Bunyan was not the same with his; for that, while he maintained the doctrines of election and predestination, he nevertheless held with the free offer of salvation to sinners without distinction. These were things which I then could not reconcile, and therefore supposed that Bunyan, though a great and good man, was not so clear in his views of the doctrines of the gospel as the writers who succeeded him. I found, indeed, the same things in all the old writers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries that came in my way. They all dealt, as Bunyan did, in free invitations to sinners to come to Christ and be saved; the consistency of which with personal election I could not understand. It is true, I perceived the Scriptures abounded with exhortations and invitations to sinners; but I supposed there must be two kinds of holiness, one of which was possessed by man in innocence, and was binding on all his posterity -- the other derived from Christ, and binding only on his people. I had not yet learned that the same things which are required by the precepts of the law are bestowed by the grace of the gospel. Those exhortations to repentance and faith, therefore, which are addressed in the New Testament to the unconverted, I supposed to refer only to such external repentance and faith as were within their power, and might be complied with without the grace of God. The effect of these views was, that I had very little to say to the unconverted, indeed nothing in a way of exhortation to things spiritually good, or certainly connected with salvation.
"But in the autumn of 1775, being in London, I met with a pamphlet by Dr. Abraham Taylor, concerning what was called The Modern Question. I had never seen any thing relative to this controversy before, although the subject, as I have stated, had occupied my thoughts. I was but little impressed by his reasonings till he came to the addresses of John the Baptist, Christ, and the apostles, which he proved to be delivered to the ungodly, and to mean spiritual repentance and faith, inasmuch as they were connected with the remission of sins. This set me fast. I read and examined the Scripture passages, and the more I read and thought, the more I doubted the justice of my former views.
"About the same time, I met with a sermon by Mr. John Martin,5 from Rom. x. 3, On the Causes and Consequences of not submitting to the Righteousness of God. The drift of this discourse, as nearly as I can remember, was to show that submission
----------------------------------
5 This remarkable man, distinguished for vast conceit and pomposity, afterwards removed to London, and died pastor of the Baptist church in Keppel street. He became a hyper-Calvinist, and opposed to missions; a high tory inpolitics, and, singularly enough, a personal friend of george the Third. - B.
[p. 16]
to the righteousness of God was the same thing for substance as believing in Christ for righteousness; and that non-submission to it was owing to wilful ignorance, pride, prejudice, and unbelief. I was equally unable to answer this reasoning as that of Dr. Taylor, and therefore began more and more to suspect that my views had been antiscriptural. I was very unhappy. I read, thought, and prayed. Sometimes I conversed on these subjects with my friend Joseph Diver, and some others. He was nearly as much at a loss as myself. I made a point however of not introducing the question in the pulpit till my judgment was fixed.
"In 1776 I became acquainted with Mr. Sutcliff, who had lately come to Olney, and soon after with Mr. John Ryland, jun., then of Northampton. In. them I found familiar and faithful brethren; and who partly by reflection, and partly by reading the writings of Edwards, Bellamy, Brainerd, &c., had begun to doubt of the system of false Calvinism to which they had been inclined when they first entered on the ministry, or rather to be decided against it. But as I lived sixty or seventy miles from them, I seldom saw them, and did not correspond upon the subject. I therefore pursued my inquiries by myself, and wrote out the substance of what I afterwards published under the title of The Gospel worthy of all Acceptation; or the Obligations of Men cordially to believe whatever God makes known.
"My change of views on these subjects never abated my zeal for the doctrine of salvation by grace, but in some respects increased it. I never had any predilection for Arminianism, which appeared to me to ascribe the difference between one sinner and another, not to the grace of God, but to the good improvement made of grace given us in common with others. Yet I saw those whom I thought to be godly men, both among Arminians and high, or, as I now accounted them, hyper Calvinists. I perceived that men's characters were not always formed by their avowed principles; that we may hold a sound faith without its having such hold of us as to form our spirit and conduct; that we may profess an erroneous creed, and yet our spirit and conduct may be formed nearly irrespective of it; in short, that there is a difference between principles and opinions; the one are the actual moving causes which lie at the root of action, the other often float in the mind without being reduced to practice."
On the important and responsible work of the ministry Mr. Fuller entered with that humility and devotedness which it demands, and which the peculiar exigences of the people among whom he laboured called for in no ordinary degree.
Though his acceptance of the pastorate added somewhat to the pressure of those theological difficulties by which his early engagements were embarrassed, as giving to them more of a practical aspect, it had nevertheless a favourable influence on their solution, as prompting him to more vigorous efforts of thought, a more rigid examination of the word of God, and more strenuous applications at a throne of grace, and also bringing him into contact with eminent individuals who, like himself, were accustomed to pursue inquiries with a view to a practical purpose, and whose means of information had been more extensive than his own. Owing however to the distance of their residence from his, as well as to the independence of his own mind, they might be said to have done little more than give an impetus to his thoughts, of which they were afterwards happy in acknowledging the benefit.
Among the investigations which occupied his attention at this period, that on
[p. 17]
the subject of justification was not the least important. The following record of the progress of his mind on this topic, written in 1796, nay not be uninteresting: -
"When I first set out in the ministry I had no other ideas of justification than those which are stated by Dr. Gill. 'Justification,' he says, 'may be distinguished into active and passive. Active justification is the act of God. It is God that justifieth. Passive justification is the act of God terminating on the conscience of a believer, commonly called a transient act passing upon an external object. The former is an act internal and eternal, taken up in the Divine mind from eternity, and is an immanent, abiding one in it. It is, as Dr. Ames expresses it, a sentence conceived in the Divine mind by the decree of justifying.'
"In his Body of Divinity, vol. ii. p. 797, the Doctor speaks of justification as it 'terminates in the conscience of a believer, and which (he says) the Scriptures style justification by faith.'
"These, till within a few years, were my views. But, thinking over these subjects, I felt dissatisfied; I felt that my views did not quadrate with the Scriptures; I endeavoured, therefore, to examine the matter closely. It occurred to me that, whatever disputes had arisen on this subject, all parties that I had read were agreed in considering justification as the opposite of condemnation. I found this idea also plentifully supported by the Scriptures, Deut. xxv. 1; 1 Kings viii. 32; Rom. viii. 33, 34; I therefore set myself to examine -- What is condemnation? Is it, said I, the decree of God finally to condemn a sinner? No; for every unbeliever, elect or non-elect, is under condemnation, John iii. 18. 36, 'the wrath of God abideth on him.' Believers 'were by nature children of wrath, even as others;' Saul, therefore, while a persecutor, was a child of wrath, or was under condemnation; yet God 'had not appointed him to wrath, but to obtain salvation by Jesus Christ.'
"Hence I concluded, if condemnation be not the decree of God finally to condemn, justification is not the decree of God finally to acquit. It also appeared to me inconsistent with the nature of things to conceive of justification as Dr. Allies expresses it, namely, as 'a sentence conceived in the Divine mind;' for, whatever purpose may be conceived in a judge's mind in favour of a prisoner, it is not justification till it is declared in open court.
"Further, Does condemnation, said I, consist in any sense or persuasion which a sinner possesses that he shall be condemned? No; for many who are under condemnation according to the Scriptures have no such persuasion, but the reverse, as was the case with the Jews, who were persuaded that God was their Father while in fact they were of their father the devil; and others, who are not under condemnation according to the Scriptures, are yet at times under apprehension that they are so. But if condemnation, continued I, consists not in a sense or persuasion that we are or shall be condemned, justification consists not in a sense or persuasion that we are or shall be justified.
"On the whole, it seemed evident that the sentence of justification was neither a purpose in the Divine mind, nor a sense or persuasion in the human mind. The question then returned, What is it? Still keeping hold of my clue, I proceeded to inquire, Is not condemnation that state or condition of a sinner in which, according to the revealed will of God in his holy law, all the threatenings and curses stand against him? Is it not the same thing as a being under the curse, which all are who are of the works of the law, whether they be elect or non-elect? And, if so, is not justification that state or condition of a sinner believing
[p. 18]
in Jesus, in which, according to the revealed will of God in the gospel, all the promises and blessings of the new covenant belong to him? Is it not the same thing as a being under grace, (Rom. vi. 14,) and which is true only of believers? The sentence of justification is not a revelation or manifestation of something to the mind which was true before, though unknown to the party; but consists of the voice of God, in the gospel, declaring that whosoever believeth shall be saved. In this court believers in Jesus stand acquitted from all things from which they could not have been acquitted by the law of Moses."
The above may be regarded as an elementary sketch of the writer's sentiments on this great subject: the reader will find it amplified and exhibited in its several relations in various parts of his works, particularly in three discourses on Romans iii. 24. On the 23d December, 1776, Mr. Fuller married Miss Sarah Gardiner, a member of the church at Soham, and daughter of Stephen and Sarah Gardiner, of Burwell. This was esteemed one of those important events of his life on which, as he said, he never entered without a reference to the Divine direction, "In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths;" and in the retrospect of which he could say, "My ways have I declared, and thou heardest me." An affecting narrative is given in this memoir of the last hours of this truly pious woman, whose valuable domestic qualities were augmented by a more than ordinary display of "the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit." ============= [From Joseph Belcher, editor, The Complete Works of Andrew Fuller, Volume I, 1845, rpt. 1988; pp. 1-18. Document provided by David Oldfield, Post Falls, ID. Formatted by Jim Duvall.]
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