THE

CHRISTIAN REVIEW.

No. LXVIII.—APRIL, 1852.

ART. I.-LIFE AND WRITINGS OF ANDREW

FULLER.

BY REV. ENOCH POND, D. D.,

Professor in Bangor Theological Seminary.

The Complete Works of the Rev. Andrew Fuller: with a Memoir of his Life by Andrew Gunton Fuller. Reprinted from the third London edition. Revised, with additions, by JOSEPH BELCHER, D. D. In three volumes. Philadelphia: American Baptist Publication Society.

It is sad to think to how little purpose the great mass of human beings live. Let them be born where they may, and in whatever circumstances, they fall directly into the current which chances to set around them, thinking as others think, doing as others do, and accomplishing comparatively little, whether of good or of evil. And when they die, the letters on their tombstones, or the common places of some short obituary, record all that will ever be known respecting them. They leave no mark upon the scroll of time, no ripple upon the current down which they have passed; and to all human appearance, the world is as though they had never been.

But there is another class, much fewer in number, but of greater power, the issues of whose existence are very different. Live where they may, and under whatever circumstances, they leave their mark upon their age. The world knows that they are in it, and will know that they have been in it, long after they have passed away. Whether raised up for evil or for good, to be public scourges or blessings, they do a

great work, and rush on to their destiny with a high hand. It would be easy to refer to multitudes, the evil of whose deeds lives after them, and will live, when all else pertaining to them shall have passed away. But it is a more grateful labor, and one better comporting with our present design, to speak of those who have been blessings to the world; who, instead of falling in with the downward current of their times, have given it a new and better direction, of whom it may be preeminently said, that they have died in the Lord, and their good works follow them. Such were Moses, and Samuel, and David, and Nehemiah, under the former dispensation. Such were Peter, and Paul, and John, among the early followers of Christ. Such, in later ages, were Augustine, and Luther, and Calvin, and Baxter, and Jonathan Edwards. In the same class, and at scarcely a lower standing in it, we place the venerable man whose memoir and works are now before us. In one respect, the case of Andrew Fuller is more remarkable than that of almost any uninspired man whatever. Without the advantages of early education, almost without teachers or books, by the mere force of his own genius, by the indomitable energies of a vigorous, perspicacious mind, and a sanctified heart, he conquered the difficulties which at first beset him, and rose to a degree of influence, and accomplished an amount of good, which was exceeded by none of his contemporaries.

Andrew Fuller was born on the 6th of February, 1754, at Wicken, a small village in Cambridgeshire, England, where his paternal ancestors had resided for several generations. His father rented a small farm, and his son assisted him in cultivating it, until he was nineteen years of age. During the latter part of this period, he was the subject of frequent and deep religious impressions. At one time, he thought himself converted; and as the delusion under which he labored was a common one, it may be proper to describe it in his own words:

"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. Í 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.

"Sometime 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 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."-Vol. i. pp. 3, 4.

The devil can quote and impress Scripture, when it suits his purpose. He once attempted this artifice upon our blessed Saviour. "He shall give his angels charge concerning thee, and in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone." There is no more effectual means of destruction than a perverted, misapplied passage of Scripture. About two years after this, the attention of Mr. Fuller was again arrested, and his impressions now issued in a saving change. The account which he gives of his conversion is eminently instructive and satisfactory; and though the passage is somewhat long, and has been often quoted, we cannot forbear giving it again. In these days of shallow impres sions and slender conversions, it may be well to look at one of the old genuine stamp:

"One morning, I think in November, 1769, I walked out by myself with an 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 these 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."-Vol. i. pp. 4, 5.

"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."-Vol. i. p. 5.

"On a review of my resolution at that time, it seemed to resemble that of Esther, who went into the king's presence contrary to the law, and at the hazard of her life. 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."-Vol. i. p. 5.