as I myself have been assured more than once by those who have been used to attend personally to the wants and sorrows of the poor, in the obscure recesses in which indigence conceals its miseries and shame, the traces of Mr. Richards's footsteps were continually to be found. "But above all, that master grace of the Christian character, a genuine and deep humility, was manifest in Mr. Richard's to all who knew him; and in proportion to the degree in which he was known, was seen to pervade the whole inward and outward man. In short, few perhaps have ever exhibited in an equal degree the beauty and excellence of the Christian character. He not only pointed out to others the path to glory, and honour, and immortality, and with exertions, far too laborious, we now fear, for his bodily powers, was unremittingly employed in compelling them to enter into it; but he advanced in it himself with a free and determined step. Providence also eminently blessed his manifold ministrations; and numbers, I doubt not, will at the last day rise and call him the blessed instrument of their salvation. He was, indeed, a burning and a shining light; and truly it was a mysterious and a dark dispensation of Pro vidence, by which such a man was removed from such a sphere of usefulness, at a period of life when, according to the ordinary course of nature, he might reasonably look forward to a long course of service. But though so suddenly called away, he was ready for the summons; and, however great was the loss to his congregation, it could not but be gain to him, to rest from his labours and enter into the joy of his Lord. His modest and unassuming nature would have shrunk, while living, from the testimonies of respect and gratitude which were poured forth over his remains. But to the feelings of those who enjoyed the privilege of calling him friend, and to myself his kindness has granted that distinction,-it was soothing to witness this universal homage of veneration and thankfulness. But while it attested the magnitude of the loss that had been sustained in the death of Mr. Richards, it inspired a hope that cannot but be gratifying to all who esteemed and loved him, that though he himself can no longer be pointed to as a living illustration of the effects of true vital Christianity, his example will long continue to direct and animate others in their Christian course." With a view to further the important practical object, pointed out in the concluding lines of the above extract, the friends of Mr. Richards have been induced to publish a selection of sermons from his pen; and which, though written without even the most remote view to publication, and destitute of the living energies which his earnest and impressive delivery imparted to them, are so simple and scriptural, so judicious, yet so persuasive, so much, in short, what Mr. Wilberforce has described, and what parochial sermons ought to be, that it is hoped they will, by the blessing of God, be found productive of much spiritual benefit to the reader. It has been also considered desirable to append to the discourses a memoir of the author, with copious extracts from his letters, which exhibit great piety and tenderness of character. The following is an outline of the chief particulars, contained at greater length in the Memoir; and though it exhibits few or none of those striking incidents, which are so apt to attract almost exclusively the popular mind, yet it is hoped that it will be found to contain lessons of heavenly wisdom, which all ought to be anxious to learn, while it pourtrays a character which all would do well to imitate, following this true servant of Christ, as he followed his heavenly Master. John Richards, was born at Penryn, in the county of Cornwall, August 4, 1771. His father was a gentleman of some independent property, and was generally respected for his sound sense and integrity of principle. His mother was the only daughter of Joseph Loscombe, Esq. a merchant of Bristol. As it is the principal object of this memoir to afford a sketch of Mr. Richards's, ministerial character, his early history will be noticed as briefly as possible. At the age of ten years he was placed under the care of Dr. Cardew, the master of the grammar-school at Truro, where he remained a little more than two years. Hence he was removed as a commoner to the public school at Winchester, of which Dr. Joseph Warton was then master. From his boyhood he was always popular, from his frankness of manner and kindness of disposition, which particularly manifested themselves in an uncommon absence of selfish feeling. In 1789, he was admitted a pensioner of St. John's College, Cambridge. He took his degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1793, and shortly after quitted the university. If ever he recurred to the period of his life passed at college, he always spoke of it with strong expressions of regret and self-condemnation; for time wasted, and talents misapplied. Yet, here, amidst much idleness and neglect of the studies of the place, he laid the foundation of a knowledge of English literature, which, in the leisure afforded in his first curacies, he enlarged to a considerable extent. His information, aided by a retentive memory, a lively fancy, and his frank and gentlemanly manners, rendered him so agreeable a companion, that his company was much courted, and he had welcome admission into what is usually styled the best society. He was ordained deacon at Exeter in 1794, and immediately entered on the curacy of Paul, near Penzance. He afterwards undertook the curacy of St. John's, Millbrook, but relinquished it in order to give his undivided attention to his widowed mother. In 1799, he married a daughter of J. S. Wynell Mayow, Esq., of Bray, in the county of Cornwall, by whom he had nine children, six of whom survive him. Early in the following year he settled in Bath, and commenced his public ministry as curate of All-Saints. He performed the weekly duty at that chapel, and on Sundays he read prayers and preached at the different churches within the rectory of Walcot in turn, With one interruption of no long continuance, he remained at AllSaints till Midsummer, 1808. Having no parochial charge, he offered to take, without receiving any additional remuneration for his services, a portion of the parish to inspect and visit; but his offer was not accepted. He was not. however, unengaged, even at this period, in works of active benevolence. He saw much distress around him, which he was anxious to relieve; at the same time he could not close his eyes to the imposture that, in such a city as Bath, mingled with it. To relieve the one, and check in some degree the other, the Society for the Suppression of Mendicity and Relief of Occasional Distress was established in January 1805. Lady Isabella King, in conjunction with Mr. Richards and Mr. Duncan, were principally concerned in the formation of this institution. Mr. Duncan says, that "his clear good sense was on that occasion inestimable, and the value of the heavenly motive that impelled all his actions was manifested in the perseverance with which he bore up against the obloquy that prejudice endeavoured to throw on the simple attempt to distinguish between real and fictitious distress." The objects which this Society proposed to itself were, as its title implies, twofold-to suppress mendicity, as far as possible, by the institution of an office where relief was to be granted to vagrants, only on examination of their cases; and to relieve occasional distress among the resident poor, by money, clothing, and food, given after personal inspection and visiting the dwellings of the applicants. This was the first institution of the kind, extending to both objects, and its utility has been proved and exhibited by the subsequent establishment of similar ones in the metropolis and other large towns. A wide field was now opened for the exercise of Mr. Richards's industry and humanity; and in this school, as he often declared, he learned some of the most useful lessons of his life. To the labours of this Society he devoted himself for many years, till his parochial duties, with the care of the Dispensary, so fully occupied his time, that he was no longer able to attend to the Society as he had formerly done. In 1808, Mr. Richards succeeded the Rev. C. Phillott in the curacy of St. Michael's, which he continued to hold till his death, in 1825. The parish of St. Michael's, which is a curacy within the rectory of Bath, contains a population of about 3000 inhabitants, a large proportion of which are of the middle and lower ranks. On entering upon the charge of such a parish, he had ample room for the exertion of the most active benevolence within the limits of his parochial duties: to these he applied himself with an honest desire to fulfil them diligently and conscientiously; yet it cannot be denied, that in the latter period of his life, the retrospect of his early ministration in this parish and elsewhere was by no means satisfactory to his mind. From the time of his entrance into the ministry, there was a perceptible and gradual improvement in his character; and within the last ten or twelve years of his life, in particular, he declared himself to have experienced a most important change in his religious principles and conduct, of which there will be occasion to speak more fully. In December, 1810, his wife's uncle, Dr. Lukin, then dean of Wells, presented him to the vicarage of Wedmore, in the county of Somerset. He lost no time in completing, at a considerable expense, the repairs of the vicarage-house, and appointing a resident curate, with a stipend that might be considered handsome for the value of the living; covenanting with him for an afternoon service, which had not before been customary. It is now necessary to advert to the change in Mr. Richards's views, which has been already alluded to. Whatever was the extent of that change, nothing could have been more gradual than its progress. That he should have espoused any opinions, or imbibed any principles, hastily, was quite contrary to his turn of mind. But slow and gradual as that change was, Mr. Richards always spoke of it as most material in its results on his character. His understanding was informed; but it was his heart that was most deeply touched and affected, and his conduct was answerably changed. His preaching partook of the alteration: the peculiarities of the Christian system in the fall of man, and his renewal to holiness by the redemption of the Saviour and the sanctification of the Spirit, entered more frequently and distinctly into his discourses. He pressed more strongly the necessity of the conversion and dedication of the heart to God: he exhorted more earnestly, and to higher degrees of holiness. Amusements, which before formed his recreations, he by degrees abandoned: some, because he considered them incompatible with the Christian life; others, because they interfered with his professional duties, or occupied too much of his thoughts; or tended to impair the clerical character in the estimation of many. In the relinquishment of some of these, he shewed no little self-denial. Some of his letters to his friends which have been preserved, powerfully illustrate the nature and gradual progress of this important and decisive change in his character. proper attention, was emphatic, without declamation, and natural without familiarity. There was something peculiarly powerful in his manner as a preacher. Simplicity, earnestness, and affection, all lent their aid to enforce what he urged on the heart and conscience; but, perhaps, what may be said to have constituted the peculiar charm of his manner, was its genuine feeling. His look, his voice, his action, all attested how deeply he felt the solemn truths which he laboured to impress on others. He never assumed higher ground for himself than for his hearers. There was nothing harsh or repulsive in his teaching. When he touched on the terrors of the Lord, it was with a solemnity suited to the awfulness of the subject, and with compasssion for the impenitent sinners he addressed. He "told them weeping that they were the enemies of the cross of Christ." But he delighted to dwell on the winning topics of the mercy and long-suffering of God, and the tender love of the Saviour to a lost world. His sermons, of which those in the printed volume afford a tolerably fair specimen, were plain practical addresses, containing strong exhortations to devotion of heart and life, on Christian motives. They abounded in forcible remarks on the uncertainty of life, the vanity and insignificance of temporal compared with eternal objectswith affecting appeals to the heart and conscience. He was anxious to keep Mr. Richards's exertions among the clear of controversy in his preaching. sick and afflicted were most indefati- There was one point, however, on which gable. His delight was to go about he had been misunderstood. His usefulamong the poor: he used to say that ness, he was informed, had been impeded he was fitted for it, and that he never by his being supposed to espouse Calwished to be taken out of it. His ex- vinistic tenets. This induced him occaperience in the visitation of the sick led sionally to introduce a few sentences into him in general to place but little re- his sermons, which might convince his liance on a death-bed repentance. He hearers that he did not hold them. But, had painfully witnessed that, in cases in general, he was anxious to shut the of recovery, resolutions of amendment, question up, as he felt that there were made merely under the fear of death, difficulties in it which could never be were broken; serious impressions wore cleared up in this world. off, and evil passions and habits resumed their sway. It was to the surrounding friends therefore, in such cases, that he always thought his instructions most likely to prove beneficial. With this view he did not allow his visits to terminate with the decease of the sick per His church was generally crowded to excess. Many strangers who visited Bath, including not a few persons distinguished for piety and talent, were in the habit of frequenting it. The poor were attracted in large numbers by the plain and suitable manner in which he instructed them. It was to this class of hearers that he adapted his evening sermons in particular; and numerous are the instances in which the impression was both strong and lasting. Many communications have been made to his family, since his death, from persons in different situations in life; mentioning the spiritual benefit which the writers had derived from Mr. Richards's preaching. In 1817, he instituted a weekly service on Tuesday evenings at his poorhouse. "His manner," said one of his hearers, was that of a kind father addressing his family." At first, a few of the poor adjoining the house requested permission to attend; and in a short time the room was crowded to excess. This was more than he had anticipated; but he did not like to send the people away, and he had not power to transfer the lecture to the church, which he willingly would have done. In the same year, his labours were much increased by his appointment to the chaplaincy of the Bath City Infirmary and Dispensary. "This Infirmary," he writes in his journal, " is a little world in itself; a world of the sick and the dying so is the larger world. But even in this small place of the kind, what a number of cases, all differing from each other in some particulars, pass in review and succeed to each other! In the course even of six months, what a variety of suffering, what various causes which produced the suffering, what various and totally different tempers and minds under it! Sick rooms, hospitals, prisons, alms, and poor-houses-these are the real schools of spiritual instruction, these are the places where the minister of the Gospel should more especially be found. It is, indeed, in many respects, a depressing, a heart-sickening walk; but it is a salutary one." In October, 1819, he was severely afflicted by the loss, at the age of eighteen, of his eldest daughter; a young woman of considerable intellectual endowments, united to great piety and gentleness of disposition. How keenly he felt her loss, and yet how submissively he bowed to the dispensation, may be seen from letters written about the period of her death. In one he thus expresses himself: "Yes, God has been pleased to deal us a heavy, a very heavy blow; but it is in love, not in anger, for He doth not willingly afflict or grieve: his name and his nature are love; and however dark and inscrutable many of his ways are, and must be to us, while we are in this state, yet of this we are sure, for our reason and faith both assure us of it, that in all his dealings with us he only intends our final happiness and benefit. Affliction is the great school in which such creatures as we are, are to be trained, and to have those virtues exercised which are to make us meet for a better and a purer state of existence." From this time till his death, it pleased God to visit him with a succession of severe family trials. By these afflicting dispensations, his heavenly Father was gradually withdrawing his affections from earth to heaven, and preparing him to dwell for ever in his presence. In the spring of 1824, he was so weakened that he frequently was obliged to go from his house to his church in a wheel-chair. With the advice of his medical attendant, and at the solicitation of his friends, he quitted Bath, and was absent from his parish for a longer period than he had ever been. He returned to Bath in the autumn, still in an enfeebled state of health, and with a conviction that his labours for the future must be cɔnsiderably abridged. It was with great difficulty that he was able to preach a few times during the winter; the last time was about five weeks before his death. From this period his complaints gained ground rapidly on him, and he was strongly urged to try, without delay, the effects of change of air. He left Bath for Ridgeway, near Plymouth, on the 29th of March, and bore the journey better than was anticipated; but his disorder returned upon him with every unfavourable symptom. On the Monday preceding his death, he said to his brother, "I am very ill-I have no confidence but in Christ-I have no other reliance-I am nothing in myself. I have not that assurance which some have, but I have a good hope." On the following morning, he said to his wife, "Mary, I am going to leave you-I say this to keep you from disappointment." During his illness he was observed to be much employed in silent prayer. He often requested that the Scriptures and prayers might be read to him. On the Sunday preceding his death, he desired to hear part of the church service; and on the day before he died, he expressed a strong wish that a prayer of thanksgiving should be offered up on his behalf. His excessive weakness precluded, not only much communication, but also much exertion, of thought; and he seems to have realised in his own case, what his experience led him so often to observe in that of others-how unfit a death-bed is for the mighty work of preparation for eternity. Happily he had not delayed this important matter. "He had," like the excellent Hooker, "been long preparing to leave this world, and gathering comfort for the dreadful hour of making his account with God." A triumphant end he had never ventured to anticipate, nor to hope, for himself. His humility led him, in his own case at least (if not in that of others), to consider a feeling of exultation unsuited to the closing hours of the probation of frail and erring man. But his death, though not triumphant, conveyed the silent and not uninstructive lesson, "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace." His end was truly in peace. He fell asleep, and is entered on his rest. His death took place on the 15th of April, 1825, in the 54th year of his age. His parishioners requested what they affectionately termed the privilege of conveying to Bath, and interring at their own expense, the remains of their beloved pastor. They were attended to the grave by the Archdeacon and other clergy of Bath, and by nearly three hundred of his friends and most respectable of his parishioners. The sensation produced by his death was very great: each individual to whom he was known, whatever his rank, seemed to feel as if a member of his own family had been taken; every one had some service to remember, some kind act to recollect, some word of his which was mentioned to his praise, and fondly dwelt on. Enough has been already said to render it unnecessary to dwell on the character of Mr. Richards. He was singularly gifted with those qualities which more peculiarly endear the Christian minister to his flock. There was a simplicity and frankness in his character which won the confidence of all who knew him. There was a quickness of feeling and warmth of temper in his natural disposition; but so greatly were these subdued by the power of religion, that his habitual temperament was that of calmness, and his latter years a continued exhibition of quiet submission and resignation under the pressure of severe affliction. Indeed, his readiness to pass by affronts, to forgive injuries, and to act as a peace-maker, was one of the most striking traits of his character. Gratitude to God was a predominant feeling in his mind. He always spoke of the happiness he derived from his wife and family with strong expressions of thankfulness: in the review of his own life, he could trace the hand of a merciful Providence guiding and conducting him through the various events of it, and gently leading him to good; and no train of thought more sensibly affected him than that of the forbearance and mercy of a gracious God. His humility was very striking. It did not shew itself in a few hasty expressions of selfcondemnation, easily uttered, and too easily passing current for its genuine fruit. Indeed, he was averse to speaking of himself. With him it was, like every other principle which he embraced, strictly practical. With respect to his fellowcreatures, it led him "in lowliness of mind" truly "to esteem others better than himself." Towards God it was exhibited in a deep and abiding sense of his majesty and holiness. Though alive to the danger of a spurious liberality, he entertained perfect charity towards all who differed from him. He was singularly exempt from any modification of spiritual pride; and so strongly did he dread any approach to censoriousness, that he was always ready to offer something in extenuation of the apparent errors of others, especially if he himself was affected by them. It needs not be added, that he was devoid of party feeling. "If we must have parties," said he, "let there be but two parties amongst us, the good and the bad. For my part, in my walk through life, it will, I believe, be my lot to belong to no party or class of men. To say the truth, I wish to belong to none. I wish to think for myself, to take the word of God for my guide, and to pray to him to enlighten my understanding where I am wrong." Above all, there appeared in him a fervent and heavenly spirit of devotion to God, and great deadness to the world: he spoke and acted like one "whose conversation truly "was in heaven," and whose heart and mind thither ascended, and with his risen Saviour continually dwelt. ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. W. V.; D. M. P.; SPERANS; K.; T. R., are under consideration. SALOPIENSIS wishes to remind his clerical brethren, that the fifth of November falls this year on the Sunday, "in order that they may be prepared to make a seasonable improvement of the service in their addresses to their congregations." He has no wish to excite party feelings; but he thinks it "no breach of charity to endeavour to make their hearers sensible of the great privileges granted and preserved to them, as a Protestant people." He considers also, that "there are many matters of a spiritual and practical nature connected with the subject, and alluded to in the course of the service for that day, which the wise and faithful Minister will be careful to expound and enforce." K. K. had better take the advice of some judicious clergyman, who knows the circumstances of the case. |