IV

RICHARD BAXTER

1615-1691

Richard Baxter is the most interesting and picturesque figure among the old English divines. "If he had lived in primitive times," says an eminent English bishop, "he would have been one of the Fathers of the Church." Born November 12, 1615, of pious parents of the middle class, he received a careful religious training. His first decisive religious impressions were experienced in his fifteenth year. To dispel remorse for a petty theft of fruit from a neighbor's orchard, he took up and began to read an old, torn volume which he found at home, "Bunny's Resolution," by a Jesuit author. It excited in his troubled soul the desire for a religious life, which resulted in his conversion. His decision to enter the ministry, formed in his nineteenth year, was due to the serious impressions made by his mother's death and his narrow escape from death which occurred about the same time. He was journeying on horseback in winter. At a certain place, where the frozen road ran between high, steep banks, he met a heavily loaded wagon. To avoid it, he urged his horse up the steep side of the road. His saddlegirth broke and he was thrown before the wheel of

the wagon. In a moment he would have been crushed, had not the horses suddenly stopped, as by some supernatural intervention, and he was dragged away from destruction.

His early education was defective. Though one of the most learned men of this time, he had no University training. "My faults," he says, “are no disgrace to a University, for I was of none. I have little but what I had out of books and the inconsiderable help of country divines." His appetite for reading was keen and in the indulgence of it he was omnivorous. There is in his autobiography an oft-quoted passage, where he speaks of the wide range of his reading, of which the following extract is only a portion: "I have looked over Erasmus, Scaliger, Salmasius, Casaubon and many other critical grammarians. I have read almost all the physics and metaphysics I could hear of

whole loads of historians, chronologers and antiquaries. I despise none of their learning. All truth is useful; mathematics, which I have least of, I find a pretty manlike sport. But if I had no other kind of knowledge than these, what were my understanding worth? I have higher thoughts of the schoolmen than Erasmus had; I much value the method and sobriety of Aquinas, the subtilty of Scotus and Occam, the plainness of Durandus, the solidity of Ariminensis, the profundity of Bradwardine, the excellent acuteness of many of their followers [giving the names of more than twenty] and many others. But how loath should I be to take such sauce for my food and such recreations for

my business! The jingling of too much and too false philosophy among them oft drowns the noise of Aaron's bells." He had, however, his favorite authors, to whom he gave a more particular study, among them, Richard Hooker; and a careful examination of Baxter's works shows that he had studied deeply and learned much from the "Ecclesiastical Polity."

Baxter was ordained for the ministry in his twenty-third year in Worcester Cathedral. After preaching here and there for two years or more without any stated charge, he entered upon his pastorate at Kidderminster in 1640, when he was twenty-five years old. "There are some three or four parishes in England," says Dean Stanley, "which have been raised by their pastors to a worldwide fame. Of these the most conspicuous is Kidderminster. Kidderminster without Baxter would have nothing but its carpets."

A REMARKABLE PREACHER

His preaching was characterized from the start by great evangelic earnestness. He so felt the importance of the soul's salvation and the adequacy of the gospel for it, that he thought that “if men only heard this as they ought, they could not but repent. And I was so foolish as to think that I had so much to say of such convincing force for the truth that men could scarcely be able to withstand it.”

Baxter's qualifications as a preacher were extraordinary. He had all the fervor and intensity of

Whitefield united with great reasoning power. Besides this, he had what he calls "a familiar moving voice," which he knew how to manage so that every thought was uttered with its proper intonation and in which was heard "the accent of conviction." He took great pains with the preparation and delivery of his sermons. It is evident from some passages in his writings, that he made a careful study of the art of preaching and that he gave much attention to both the matter and the manner of his public addresses. "In the study of our sermons," he says, "we are too negligent. We must study how to convince and get within men, and how to bring each truth to the quick, and not leave all this to our extemporary promptitude. How few ministers preach with all their might! There is nothing more unsuitable to such a business than to be slight and dull. What! speak coldly for God and for men's salvation! Let the people see that you are in earnest;-Men will not cast away their dearest pleasures upon a drowsy request. A great matter lies in the very pronunciation and tone of speech. The best matter will scarcely move men if it be not movingly delivered. See that there be no affectation, but let us speak as familiarly to our people as we would do if we were talking to any of them personally. We must lay siege to the souls of sinners. In preaching there is intended a communion of souls and a communication from ours unto theirs. I have observed that God seldom blesseth any man's work so much as his whose heart is set upon success." From "The Reformed Pastor.")

His personal appearance in the pulpit matched well with his entrancing voice, unmistakable sincerity and earnestness of spirit. His countenance in speaking was animated, and lighted up by large, serious eyes, which looked the entreaty that his tongue uttered. Delicate health, from which he suffered nearly all his life and by which he was often brought near to death, lent additional force to his speech. His words were those of "a man that was betwixt living and dead," so that, in his own phrase, he "preached as a dying man to dying men." But there was no suggestion of feebleness in his speaking. Such was the strength of his reasoning and the grip of his thought, and his ardent spirit so energized his fragile frame and physical powers that he made the impression of remarkable tireless vigor as he advanced in his discourse. His style was that of genuine oral address, a real talking style, though he usually read his sermons. We have the evidence of this in his published works, like the "Call to the Unconverted," which contain the substance of sermons actually preached. Many of their passages are but transcripts or extracts from those sermons, preserving for us the style and forms of thought which marked his preaching. Evidently this was marked, as Archdeacon Trench says, by "a robust and masculine eloquence." He had a strong imagination, and used it with rare effect when proper; but he possessed also the judgment and self-restraint not to use it when there was danger from its use of diverting the hearer from serious attention to the truth presented.